Pax Matrum
by loubug14
Summary: Wizarding Britain has a population problem. Hermione Granger has a solution. But no one is particularly happy with it, especially not her.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I'm not sure when this story became lodged in my brain, but it's been knocking around for a while. I couldn't let it go, so I decided to write it down instead. It's my first foray into multi-chapter fanfiction, so reviews and feedback are appreciated! xx_

* * *

 _October 26th, 1998  
_ _Department of Mysteries—Ministry of Magic_

There were two things Hermione noted about the group of people around the conference table. First, the ten people in the conference room deep in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries were either very powerful, very intelligent, or both. Aside from that, however, she could not figure what discernible connection they had—why these ten people?—and she particularly couldn't understand why she, the lone woman and youngest by almost least ten years, was seated among them.

Standing at the head of the table, in well-worn official Ministry robes, was Arthur Weasley, the recently-elected Minister of Magic. He'd been in office less than two months, taking over for Kingsley Shacklebolt when his interim position had ended. Many had encouraged Kingsley to run for the position permanently, but he dismissed the idea that he'd make a good politician.

"I'm an Auror," the formidable man told a group of Order members one evening at the Burrow, after gorging on one of Molly's roasts. "I understand bringing order to chaos, and that's what the Ministry has been these past three months. But now we're at a place to start settling down—to start really governing again. I'm no good for that. The bureaucracy has been killing me, and the last thing we want is a Minister who will _Incarcerous_ any smarmy politicians who imply they want to bring back bribery and back-door dealings. I don't have the stomach for it. I'll be much more useful back in the DMLE."

Today, Arthur looked worse for the wear, and Hermione was rather surprised to see a little stubble on his face; he was usually quite clean cut, although Hermione wasn't sure that was his personal choice or Molly's influence. His developing beard was a shade lighter than his bright red hair, and the blond notes brought out the creeping dark circles under his eyes. He didn't look like he'd slept; it was a drastic change from the jovial man she'd seen the day before at the Burrow's weekly Sunday.

To Arthur's left was Gerald Greengrass, the Advisor to the Minister, and another older man she didn't know but gathered was someone high up in the Ministry's legal department. The two were talking in low tones, and Greengrass seemed to be taking notes on their conversation.

To their left, directly across from Hermione, were two Unspeakables. They had not removed their hoods, nor had they said a word to anyone. Hermione felt like they were watching her, but she shook off the notion and glanced to the other end of the table.

Also wearing an Unspeakables robe, but with his hood down, was Lucius Malfoy, who was talking with Severus Snape. After the Battle of Hogwarts, which the Malfoys had left after locating Draco, Lucius and Narcissa had bent over backwards to avoid Azkaban. While Severus had long ago given the Order a list of every Marked Death Eater, Lucius gave the Ministry the most comprehensive list of un-Marked Death Eater supporters they had seen; the number of people financially backing Voldemort's cause was much longer than even Severus had anticipated. Malfoy had also noted which families had donated under duress, and given his well-known contempt for most of those families, he was taken at his word.

Hermione guessed that, once his name had been cleared, he'd been scooped up by the Department of Mysteries. She couln't deny he was brilliant, and his knowledge of the Dark Arts was vast. That, coupled with the short leash the Ministry had on him, made him a useful tool for the DoM.

The period leading up to Severus Snape's trial had been, for lack of a better word, a fiasco. _The Prophet_ ran scathing interviews from Hogwarts students chronicling Headmaster Snape's "reign of terror" the prior year. _The Quibbler_ ran competing interviews that noted the Headmaster had, in fact, curbed the more grotesque tendencies of the Carrows. Susan Bones wrote an essay recounting a detention with Amycus that involved cutting curses, _Crucios_ , and promises of sexual violation. The Headmaster had interrupted with what even Susan could see was a spurious excuse and had dismissed her from the detention unceremoniously. Her frank account ended with the claim that without him she would've at least been raped and would most likely be dead.

The trial itself was quick and closed to the public. A few representatives of the press were invited, but no photographers; Hermione had been gratified to see that Rita Skeeter was _not_ among the invitees. Harry, Hermione, Neville Longbottom, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, Poppy Pomfrey, all three Malfoys, and Dumbledore's portrait had testified on Snape's behalf. He refused to plead innocent, as he claimed such a plea would be unfair to those who suffered under him, but he was given immunity for his crimes due to his status as a spy. It was the best way to exonerate a man who felt guilty for his actions, even though those actions had been for Dumbledore's "greater good."

After the trial McGonagall had offered Severus the position of Deputy Headmaster, giving him the option to teach either Defense or Potions, but he declined. Instead, he had claimed the Prince inheritance and set up a mail-order apothecary, specializing in healing potions. He was less abrasive, but by no means more social. Draco, with whom Hermione had developed a precarious friendship, claimed his godfather joined his family for dinner once a week but spent most of his free time reading or renovating the small Prince estate he had inherited.

"He seems… happy," Draco said over tea. "The other night he was talking about clearing out one of the kitchen gardens so he could grow his own potions ingredients and he _smiled_. Do you know how goddamn disconcerting that was? I've known him my whole life, and I'm pretty sure I've never seen him smile."

On Hermione's right was Bill Weasley, who had returned to Gringotts with Fleur. There had been some animosity between him and the goblins, as Ron had been part of the break-in of the Lestrange vault and the liberation of the dragon protecting it, but the bank was not about to let the best curse-breaker in Britain work for anyone else. Hermione was surprised to see him at the meeting, since Gringotts rarely loaned out their curse breakers, and certainly not at a rate the Ministry could currently afford. Hermione wondered if he was here in some other capacity—perhaps on behalf of the Order?

To Hermione's left were two wizards wearing the lime green robes of St. Mungo's Healers. One of the two looked vaguely familiar. Hermione guessed she'd looked at him a hair too long, as he offered her a wan smile and extended his hand.

"Augustus Pye."

Hermione took his hand. "Hermione Granger."

Pye smiled. "As if anyone in Wizarding Britain didn't know who you were, Miss Granger."

Hermione had the decency to look a little embarrassed, and then place the Healer's name. "Oh! You're the Healer who helped Mr. Weasley after he was attacked by Nagini!"

Pye nodded, and Hermione noted that his smile did not reach his eyes. He looked like a man trying to make small talk at a funeral. It was a look Hermione had become very familiar with after the war. "That's me. I'm lucky to have survived that, though. I thought Molly Weasley would _Avada_ me for using stitches on her husband. But, as you can see, I survived, though I've since transferred departments. I'm now the Head Healer on the Potions and Plant Poisoning Floor." He gestured to the man on his left. "This is Healer MacMillan, my second-in-command."

The man to Pye's left nodded at her politely. "I think you went to school with my nephew, Ernie?"

Their conversation was cut short, however, when Arthur cleared his throat. Healer Pye dropped his tentative smile, and everyone fell silent. Hermione noted that Greengrass continue to look at his notes rather than at the Minister.

"Forty-eight hours ago," Arthur began, "a team of Aurors entered an old Death Eater safe house. The DMLE has been working their way through various Death Eater estates and hide outs, and there was nothing in our intelligence that indicate this safe house would be any different than the others we have found.

However, upon entering the basement, the Aurora discovered a potions lab, with an entire section of cauldrons that were full and under a stasis charm. Despite following protocol, one of the Aurors triggered a defensive ward, which in turn triggered an explosion. Two Aurors suffered injuries, but the rest of the team was able to secure the site before taking the two via Portkey to St. Mungo's.

One of the Aurors, Natalie Frobisher, is a Muggle-born. Her medical file has been released to this group only, and her blood status will become relevant shortly. She was in the lab during the explosion, and suffered the most severe injuries, including a number of deep lacerations that were healed by the Mediwitches on duty. She was held for the standard 12 hours for observation, and then released. She remains in good health.

Six hours after Natalie entered St. Mungo's, two of her Mediwitches, both women, fell ill. Within an hour of each other, they collapsed on the hospital floor, and when they were revived, they complained of extreme fatigue and abdominal pain. Diagnostic spells didn't reveal anything. Both were put under observation, but, given the innocuous nature of their symptoms, were allowed visitors. Early yesterday morning, one of the women died. She was a pure-blood. At mid-day, the other woman died. She was a half-blood.

The first woman had been visited by her sister, who later went to a small dinner party with her husband. The next day, all six women who were at that dinner party were admitted to St. Mungo's with similar symptoms. Five of those women are now dead."

Arthur paused and sighed, and then rubbed the back of his neck. He looked like he was at a loss for how to continue. Normally, Hermione would have expected Greengrass to pick up where Arthur left off; he, however, was staring a hole in the notes in front of him. Arthur looked at Healer Pye.

"I left St. Mungo's approximately an hour ago," said Healer Pye. Arthur did not sit, but his relief at not having to continue the story was palpable. "As of that time, eighteen women have been admitted to the hospital with the same symptoms. Eleven are dead, and two more are not expected to survive the day."

The room stilled completely. Hermione scanned the room, making eye contact with a terrified Bill before he asked, "What do we know?"

It was Healer MacMillan who answered. "Not a lot. We know whatever this is seems to stem from Natalie's admission to St. Mungo's. We know whatever this is moves quick and is easily spread. We know that, so far, it only effects women." Here, he paused. "And we know whatever it is seems to disproportionately target pure-bloods and, to a lesser extent, half bloods. Of the eighteen women who have been admitted, twelve have been pure-bloods and six have been half-bloods. Ten of the pure-blood women and three of the half-blood women have died or are expected to. Zero admissions have been Muggle-born."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: My tentative plan is to update twice a week, Friday and Sunday/Monday. I've hit a narrative snag on the chapter I'm currently working on, but I'm a few chapters ahead so hopefully it will work itself out before it's time for me to post._

 _Thanks for reading! xx_

* * *

 _October 30th, 1998  
_ _Department of Mysteries—Ministry of Magic_

It turned out, as it always did, to be Voldemort's fault. For all his psychopathic tendencies, Tom Riddle was a brilliant wizard. It shouldn't have surprised anyone that he had back-up plans for his back-up plans… including a back-up plan in the event of his death.

Aurors had found a box notebooks in the potions lab that had been warded as heavily as a Gringotts vault—Bill worked non-stop for two days before it could be opened. The notes revealed that Voldemort wanted to ensure, in the event of his death, that the pure-blood lines of Wizarding Britain would continue to be pure. His solution was, ironically, inspired by Muggles: biological weapons.

The notes were written by Sergei Dolohov, Potions Master and cousin of Antonin Dolohov. With Severus serving as his eyes at Hogwarts, Voldemort had used Dolohov as a personal potioneer, tasking him with a variety of projects. Among these was a potion that would render Muggle-borns and, potentially, half-bloods infertile. Dolohov hoped that by targeting reproduction rather than killing Muggle-borns outright, he could introduce a self-sustaining contagion that would continually infect Muggle-born witches and wizards and prevent the dilution of pure-bloodlines. He theorized that he could use a blood-based potion to create a contagion that only effected non-pure-bloods, much in the same way that dragon pox only effected magical people, while Muggles contracted chicken pox.

When he got to the point in the notes where Dolohov admitted to collecting blood samples from pure-blood women-most without the women's knowledge-Severus threw his teacup against the wall and let loose a stream of curses the likes of which Hermione had never heard before and never expected to hear again. Severus's anger toward Dolohov's slapdash approach to experimental blood magic had likely been compounded by Lucius's absence; despite their precautions, Narcissa had been admitted to St. Mungo's that same morning.

In the four days they'd had to study the disease, the best answer they could come up with was that the potion that had exploded was an early version of an inoculation for pure-blood women—after all, it would be easier to carry a disease-resistant strain through pure-blood lines than it would to tailor a contagion to only target Muggle-borns and half-bloods—but the potion, in fact, did the exact opposite of what it was supposed to do. Hermione explained that Natalie Frobisher must have served as something of a Typhoid Mary: as a Muggle-born she didn't have the bloodline that would allow infection, but as a carrier of the disease she would enable it to infect others.

And it did.

Within days St. Mungo's was packed with witches showing symptoms. Based on the Healers' early observations, if a witch came down with the symptoms, she would likely die; in the off chance she survived, she was rendered infertile.

"Severus?" After four days of late nights, frustrating failures, and too deaths, Hermione had been invited to address all the men on the team familiarly.

The man, more sallow than usual, lifted his head from the notes in front of him and raised a dark eyebrow. "Yes, Hermione?"

"I don't understand this."

He glared at her. "Could you be any more obtuse?"

Hermione bristled, but took his comment in stride. She knew her inclusion in the initial response team had been part blood-status, part-Severus. As a Muggle-born, she did not run the risk of contracting the plague; furthermore, Severus claimed that she was the lone Order member he would be willing to consult with, as she was the only one who could remotely keep up with him. She had to admit her statement _had_ been somewhat vague.

"I meant I don't understand this situation. This potion. This plague. If these notes indicate Voldemort wanted a potion that effects Muggle-borns fertility, why make something that kills? Why make a version keyed to pure-bloods? Why make this potion, knowing the damage it could do?"

Severus considered her words.

"Do you know, Hermione, why so few werewolves take Wolfsbane?"

That was not the response she had expected. She crinkled her eyebrows. "I would assume it has something to do with how expensive it is. It's not like werewolves have many opportunities for employment."

"If werewolves would take the potion, the Ministry would subsidize it. It's in their best interest to do so. No, finances are not a factor. So why do so few werewolves take Wolfsbane?"

"They don't trust the Ministry?"

"That would make sense if it was the Ministry brewing the potion. No, they don't trust the potion itself."

"Why not? You brewed it for Remus for years before he died. Except that night my third year, it worked perfectly, and that was user error, not the potion itself!"

Severus's eyes flashed in rage at the memory of that night, but the emotion quickly passed. Hermione knew that no love had been lost between Severus and Remus Lupin, and that the former Potions professor had not mourned the werewolf's passing. "Werewolves' distrust of Wolfsbane has little to do with the brewers but, rather, the dark history of the potion itself. It's not well known outside of the werewolf community or a handful of Potions Masters, but the earliest Wolfsbane trials killed more than 100 werewolves in Eastern Europe before Belby had a version that he could bring to Britain."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "That's awful!"

Severus hummed in agreement. "That was Belby. When I knew him in school, he was exceptionally bright but not particularly logical in his potions work. He was rather like Miss Lovegood: brilliant, but functioning on a different wavelength than everyone else. As a result, his experiments were not as… exacting as one might of hoped. Werewolves suffered for it, though few outside the werewolf community considered the lives lost a great sacrifice."

"And Dolohov?"

"As batty as Belby, but without the Hufflepuff-ish need to make the world a better place. Lucius and I were anomalies in the Dark Lord's circle; you were more likely to find the insanity of Bellatrix or the simpering of Pettigrew than a shrewd politician or academic." Severus flipped open the new set of notes in front of him and looked down, his lank black hair falling over his eyes.

Hermione thought on that as they continued to work. After a few moments, she said, "I guess I'm just having trouble figuring out how this potion could so wrong. I mean, it's horrific that it exists at all, but this just seems like the antithesis of Dolohov's end goal."

Severus sighed, clearly feeling put upon by the inquisitive Gryffindor. After a moment, he said, "Imagine I am Belby, creating the Wolfsbane potion. It works in much the same way it does now, but I think it can be improved. I think I can completely eradicate the impulses of the wolf during the full moon, rather than just suppress them, by using a strengthening solution. How might I go about this?"

Hermione thought. "You can't. Any of the basic ingredients in strengthening solution, which would accomplish your goal, would be too severe to use with aconite. It's why Wolfsbane hasn't been improved on in almost twenty years."

"What about salamander's blood? There's a precedence for using the two together in stronger Wit-Sharpening Potion."

"Sure, but that's because the aconite is fully dissolved before the infusion of salamander's blood," said Hermione. "In Wolfsbane, salamander's blood would have to be added as part of the base. Aconite has to be added in the final step, in step with the moon's cycle. The salamander blood would dissolve aconite before it had a chance to infuse the wolfsbane. You'd just end up with a werewolf strengthening solution instead."

He said nothing. Her mouth dropped.

"Oh fuck."

"Indeed."

* * *

Hermione heard the low voices before she opened her eyes. She shifted in her seat and flexed her shoulders in an effort to alleviate the crick in her neck. She cast a wandless _Tempus_. It was just after five in the morning, meaning she'd been sleeping at her work table for almost three hours. She glanced toward the voices. Severus, who likely hadn't slept at all, was somberly looking at Bill Weasley.

"Bill?"

He looked up at her, and she noted the red around his eyes. It was different than the redness of Severus's sleeplessness. Bill had been crying.

"Bill?" Hermione asked, more softly. She stood, but made no move toward him.

Instead, he walked over to her and put his hands on her forearms.

"Hermione, Mum and Ginny were just admitted to St. Mungo's."

* * *

 _October 31st, 1998  
St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries_

Hermione stood near the back of the hospital room and held Ron's clammy hand. She could smell traces of Firewhisky on him. Under normal circumstances she'd chastise him for drinking hard liquor before dinner, but these were not normal circumstances.

The redhead's eyes were bloodshot from a combination of crying and drinking, and he stared out the tiny window in the equally tiny room. To his right, Percy stood in his Ministry robes, straight as a rail and hands behind his back. He'd come from the Ministry, where he was doing his best to keep things afloat for his dad. He was trying to look unaffected, but he was tense, even by Percy standards.

Arthur sat on one side of the hospital bed, holding a crying Molly; Harry was in a chair on the other side, holding Ginny's hand and staring at their intertwined fingers. Molly herself was still in a hospital gown, but by noon she had been determined to be out of danger. She couldn't be released until the next day, but she had been cleared to visit her dying daughter. The twins sat behind their parents on an uncomfortable-looking loveseat, with Charlie perched on its arm.

"Mum. Dad." Ginny was sitting up in her hospital bed, smiling softly at her parents. "It will be OK."

Molly sniffed loudly and buried her face in Arthur's shoulder. Ron's hand tightened around Hermione's.

"We waited so long for you, Ginny," Arthur said quietly. "You're our baby girl. Our Lucky Number Seven. Our princess."

Ginny snorted and rolled her hazel eyes, trying to lighten the mood. "Princess."

Charlie stood up from his seat and stormed out of the room. Hermione saw a flash of hurt on Ginny's face as she watched her brother leave.

"You wouldn't remember, but when you were very little, Bill and Charlie would play knights and dragons," said Arthur. "They'd set your cot up under the dining room table. You were the princess they would rescue."

"We were the dragons." Fred's smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Bloody terrifying, we were," agreed George.

Arthur looked at the door, as though Charlie might reappear. "He's so scared for you, Ginny. He feels guilty for having not been around these last few years." Arthur paused. "He feels guilty for not being able to save you."

"He can join the club," huffed Ginny.

No one looked at Harry.

In what seemed like no time at all, Molly was taken back to her room for another exam, and Percy used that moment to drag Arthur back to the Ministry. They promised to return within the hour.

Ginny looked at the twins. "Go find Charlie and get some food. Do what you can. If you catch Bill on their way in, take him with you. He'll talk some sense into Charlie, but you two have the best chance of making him smile. Don't make me a Dementor, sucking the happiness out of everyone."

Two quick pecks on her cheek, and the twins were gone. Ron and Hermione took over the couch where they'd been. Ron curled into a ball and laid his head on Hermione's lap. Harry crawled into Ginny's bed and laid alongside her. He draped his hand across her waist over the covers, pulled her close to him, and buried his face in her hair.

Hermione saw his shoulder heave before she heard him crying.

She looked out the window to give him privacy, and she ran her fingers through Ron's waves. She thought of Gerald Greengrass, who had buried his wife and a daughter only days after the initial explosion. He had come back to the DoM, to their tiny team that had been working together, a broken man. Would the Weasleys survive this? Would Harry?

"You have to take care of them."

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione snapped back to the present. Ginny, cradling a sleeping Harry, was looking at her solemnly. Hermione glanced down and saw that Ron, who was also asleep, his mouth wide open. There was a damp spot on her jeans from his drool. She must have zoned out for longer than she thought.

"You have to take care of them, Hermione. You know that, right?"

Hermione sighed. "I'll try my best, Ginny, but I'm not sure we can all bounce back from this. We thought the war was over. We were healing. Harry was healing."

Ginny ran her fingers through her boyfriend's messy black hair and gazed down at him, years of love evident in her eyes. "I wanted so badly to take care of him. I wanted to give him the family he never had. We were going to grow old together. I was really looking forward to being old together."

"Birthday parties and Sunday dinners."

"Family Quidditch games."

"Wrinkles and grey hairs and grand-babies."

The girls looked at each other, mourning the future that would never be.

"I came to terms with dying last year," Ginny explained. "You read Susan's article. I don't know that anyone in the school, save a few Slytherins, didn't think about whether they would survive the year." Harry shifted, and Ginny used the moment to scoot up in her bed. She trailed her right hand up and down his arm, and looked down at him.

"Are you scared?" Hermione asked quietly.

Ginny smiled. "It doesn't hurt now. They've got me on some pretty intense pain potions."

"That's not what I asked."

Ginny considered her friend's question. "Bravery isn't about being unafraid. It's about facing what's coming head-on. I'm scared out of my mind, Hermione, but there's nothing I can do. Sometimes death is unavoidable. And not everyone can come back to us after." She looked down and kissed her sleeping boyfriend's forehead. "If he would have died at the Final Battle, I would've been heartbroken. I would've mourned for a long time. But I would have moved on, because it's what Harry would've wanted."

Ginny looked up at her friend. "I want him to live his life, Hermione. You have to make sure he moves on."


	3. Chapter 3

_November 9th, 1998  
_ _Department of Mysteries—Ministry of Magic_

A state of emergency was declared. Borders were closed, the whole Floo system was temporarily blocked, and all Portkey travel, including domestic, was suspended. Diagon Alley shut down. Quarantine procedures were issued at Hogwarts, the Ministry, and St. Mungo's, though those efforts would eventually prove to be too little too late. Bubble-head charms were used by those few people who couldn't avoid leaving their homes. _The Prophet_ headlines were, for once, not exaggerated.

 _PURE-BLOOD PLAGUE: Witches dying en-mass six months after Voldemort's fall!_

Of their initial eleven-person team, four lost a wife or child.

Hermione sat at the conference table with eight of the other team members and looked at the list of names in front of her, which was magically updated by St. Mungo's as patients were released or passed away. The document had been handed out by Healer MacMillan that morning, though Hermione already knew the status of some women. Before she started reading, she said a silent prayer to Circe, Nimue, and Morgana that Luna had been Snorkack-hunting in Sweden during the plague. While they didn't know if she would ever be able to return to Britain, she was alive.

She brushed back the few tendrils of her chestnut curls that had escaped her haphazard bun as she thought back to the initial meeting. So much had changed since then. So many funerals, most of which were sparsely attended for fear of the plague. So many broken hearts. So many families destroyed, _again._

Voldemort was the awful gift that just wouldn't stop giving.

However, the rate of infection was finally diminishing; it seemed the plague had run its course, although she and Severus, along with a team of Healers, were working to understand whether the plague continued to pose a threat to those outside Britain's borders, like Luna. She assumed today's meeting was an update on that progress.

As she stirred the tea she'd retrieved from the sideboard earlier, Hermione scanned the _Unaffected_ list for names she recognized.

 _Katie Bell…Penelope Clearwater…Natalie Frobisher…Victoria Frobisher…Hermione Granger…Sue Li…Padma Patil…Patricia Stimpson…Lisa Turpin…Romilda Vane…_

All Muggle-born and a few half-bloods. She knew the Gryffindors well: Katie Bell's mother was a half-blood, but that all of her grandparents had been Muggles or Muggle-born. The Frobisher sisters were Muggle-born. Romilda Vane's mother was a pure-blood, but the fact that her father was a Muggle was the family's worst-kept secret.

The _Unaffected_ list was by far the shortest of the three. She sipped her tea while she scanned the names on the _Infertile_ list.

 _Susan Bones…Tracy Davis…Daphne Greengrass…Rolanda Hooch…Megan Jones…Morag MacDougal…Minerva McGonagall…Eloise Midgen…Parvati Patil…Alicia Spinnet…Sybill Trelawney…Septima Vector…Molly Weasley…_

Before she could curb her thoughts, Hermione noted that the smarter of the two Patil twins was the one who would go on to bear children. She immediately flushed at how uncharitable this was toward Parvati, and instead focused on how lucky it was that both girls were alive. Magical twins shared a magical core; she knew how affected George had been by Fred's coma. In fact, she had been concerned that if Fred died George would quickly have followed out of sheer heartbreak. She was glad neither girl would have to weather the loss of her other half.

The last list—the longest by far—was the hardest to look at. She put her tea down and took a deep breath.

 _Hannah Abbott…Bathsheda Babbling…Mandy Brocklehurst…Flora Carrow…Hestia Carrow…Cho Chang…Fleur Delacour…Fay Dunbar…Marietta Edgecomb…Gemma Farley…Astoria Greengrass…Laurel Greengrass…Angelina Johnson…Hestia Jones…Alice Longbottom…Augusta Longbottom…Narcissa Malfoy…Pansy Parkinson…Irma Pince…Poppy Pomfrey…Pomona Sprout…Aurora Sinistra…Andromeda Tonks…Ginevra Weasley…_

She thought of those left behind: Neville, who had lost his mother, grandmother, and fiancée; Gerald Greengrass, who Hermione had come to sincerely like for his sharp mind and who had lost a wife and daughter; Lucius, who had lost his wife, and Draco, who had lost his mother and fiancée; Teddy, who had lost the only family he had left in Andromeda; the Weasleys, who had lost their only daughter and sister, as well as Bill's wife, Fleur; and Harry, who, it seemed like, had once again lost everything.

Hogwarts' staff had been decimated. The school had closed the previous week due to the illnesses of both students and staff, and while Minerva was recovering from her bout with the plague there had been no discussions of re-opening. She knew from conversations with Healer Pye that St. Mungo's was running on fumes trying to keep up with the influx of patients, especially since a number of Healers and Mediwitches had been infected themselves.

Arthur walked in with Percy, who had long ago taken over his brother's spot on the team. Fleur had passed only days after Ginny, and Bill had been inconsolable. According to Arthur, he had refused to return to Shell Cottage, instead seeking refuge in his childhood bedroom at the Burrow. The goblins had not demanded a fee from the Ministry for Bill's services; they seemed willing to offer whatever assistance they could, as initial concerns about the plague thought Wizarding Britain might be completely decimated, destroying the economy and, subsequently, the goblins' profits. But Bill had not returned to work yet, as he couldn't face yet another place where his wife was supposed to be and was not.

"I wish I had good news," said Arthur, beginning the meeting with no fanfare. "We deserve some good news. But, unless any of you have information I don't know of, that is not the case." He looked at the Healers and then at Severus, who frowned and shook his head. They had made no discernible progress on understanding the disease since the last meeting.

Arthur sighed. "Then, I regret to inform you, we are moving straight from one major crisis to another." He looked down the table, and Hermione followed his gaze to the two Unspeakables. They had said little in the last two weeks, taking their own notes and coming and going between the conference room, potions lab, and wherever they ran off to in the DoM.

"We've been running calculations since the war," one stated. Hermione thought his voice was male, but she couldn't be sure. "Between the loss of life from the Second Wizarding War and this plague, we have a serious population crisis. Add to this the fact that the biggest side effect of the plague is infertility, and that the quarantine on our borders negates any emigration, and we have a problem of epic proportions."

"We're dying out." Hermione spoke before she could stop herself. The Unspeakable looked at her, although with the hood up she couldn't tell what kind of look it was.

"Indeed, Miss Granger. Had we just suffered through the war, we could have offered incentives for couples to have children and likely been fine. With the plague, our population has been culled even further. But the spell that brought the dragon down, as it were, is that more than half the surviving witches are infertile. If our numbers are right, the Hogwarts class eleven years from now will consist of anywhere from four to six students."

"That's not enough to sustain the school; Hogwarts would have to close," said Severus.

"That's not enough to sustain magical Britain, and therein lies the problem," answered the Unspeakable. "Even accounting for the influx of Muggle-borns every year, we are looking at a complete decimation of the magical population in less than three generations. Magic will still exist, but there will be no structured society to cultivate or regulate it."

"Which is obviously unacceptable," interjected Lucius Malfoy.

"Of course it is," snapped the Unspeakable, obviously irritated with his colleague's interruption. "But the question is how to fix it. We've been working on this since it became evident the plague was essentially unstoppable and would have to run its course."

Arthur cleared his throat. "The Unspeakables are here today to present that plan. Of course," and here he leveled a glare at the hooded figures, "this plan is _not_ final. We are presenting it to you not just because you have been instrumental in understanding the plague, but because you are some of the brightest minds in wizarding Britain." He looked around the table, making eye contact with each person. "You understand the issues at play here, from health concerns to legal issues to the current socio-political climate. This is a jumping off point, from which we can make the best possible plan for our community."

Arthur looked back at the Unspeakables and waited.

"A marriage law."

The silence lasted for only a beat.

" _Excuse me?_ " roared Hermione.

"A marriage law," responded the second Unspeakable. "We require all fertile witches to marry and produce children."

Hermione dropped her forehead to the table with a loud _thud._ No one spoke until she looked up again. "Of all the ill-thought, dull-witted, idiotic plans, this one has to be the cream of the crop. Did you just come up with that in the hallway on your way here? Or wait, no-you used Divination, didn't you? You got this answer from some goddamn tea leaves." Hermione glared at the Unspeakables. "Your solution to the population crisis, which is complicated by a plague that we still don't completely understand or have a working antidote for, is a three word sentence that, at its core, has fuck-all to do with the problem at hand?"

"What do you mean, doesn't address the problem at hand?" asked Percy.

"A marriage law does not guarantee children," snapped Hermione. "There's a list of women in front of you who could easily marry, but are physically incapable of having children."

"We did say we would limit marriages to women who can conceive," replied the Unspeakable, with a tone that indicated he thought she was both a bit simple and also that the matter closed.

Hermione looked around the room, incredulous. Most of the men looked upset, but resigned. Her former professor looked at her, amused.

"I'm surrounded by fucking morons," Hermione complained to him.

"Now you know how I felt as your instructor at Hogwarts," replied Severus. "Dunderheads, the lot of them."

She looked back at the Unspeakables. "You do know that women can have children without being married, right?"

"Yes, but…"

"Give me one reason. One. And none of this moralistic bullshit about tradition or doing what's right. One legitimate reason."

"The binding of magical cores in marriage creates a better conduit for conceiving," said Lucius. His pale blue eyes held no contempt; she had been shocked by the dearth of comments regarding her Muggle background she'd received from him over the two weeks they'd worked together. "It's why so few magical children are born out of wedlock." Hermione turned to glare at him. "You can be upset, Miss Granger, but it's true."

"It's also why alternative methods of conception like Muggles use will not work," added Healer Pye. "Magical conception requires the meeting of two magical cores."

"And Muggle-borns?" she queried.

"It's generally accepted that most Muggle-borns have a squib on each side of the ancestry," said Lucius. "If two such Muggles have a child, their latent magic can create a magical child."

"And the war we just fought over blood purity?" she asked, incredulous.

"The magic in Muggle-borns is so far removed from any relationship to magical culture as to render it inconsequential," he replied. "Despite my former... political leanings, I recognize that Muggle-borns are no less deserving a magic than pure-bloods or half-bloods. If anything, Hermione, _you_ showed me that. That does not change that Muggle-borns grow up without knowledge of our culture... knowledge concerning things like the relationship between marriage bonds and fertility." He smirked at the obvious dig. "It makes it difficult for them to adapt to our society."

"Or it brings in new ways of thinking." She looked at the blond and thought a moment. "Could the problem of combining magical cores be solved with fertility potions? Would it be easier to conceive outside the marriage bond if both parties were taking one?"

He furrowed his brow. "I don't know of a single witch or wizard who has _tried_ to get pregnant outside of a marriage bond."

"Not even to trap a rich, pure-blood husband?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

Lucius looked affronted, then thoughtful. "Perhaps." He offered no more.

Hermione looked back at the Unspeakable and waited.

"But why _not_ get married, if the two parties are already having children?"

"First of all, marriage does not equal children. If you want to call it something, call it the procreation law. If marriage is tied to that, so be it, but leave it up to couples to decide whether they want to be bonded or not. Our focus should be on babies.

Second, you're looking at an intense amount of competition for fertile women in a culture that values lineage and family above all else. What do you think will happen when you announce that only fertile women can marry?"

"It would be chaos," agreed Severus. She looked at Arthur, who was wrinkling his brow.

"Arthur, how many of your sons want to marry and have children?" she asked.

Arthur startled. "I believe all of them, although I imagine that's unlikely now."

"What if there was one available woman for your sons? Only one, between the six of them."

"Well…" he thought, but she saw Percy blanch and then look distraught.

She smiled at him. "They'd be like dogs on a bone, Arthur. I love Ron, but he'd be bitter and petulant if he saw one of his brothers with the future he desperately wanted and couldn't have. Bill, when he recovers from Fleur, will have to deal with the strong mating drive that comes from his latent lycanthropy. The twins, Circe help us, might permanently disfigure one of their brothers with pranks to eliminate them as romantic competition. And your sons _love_ each other." She looked at Lucius. "I know Draco is mourning Astoria, but what would he do to have a child?"

Lucius looked long at her. "Anything."

"And you? What would you do to ensure him a child, to make sure the Malfoy name lived on, even as a half-blood?"

He did not pause. "Anything."

She looked back at the Unspeakables. "You have a huge population disparity between witches, particularly fertile witches, and wizards. To only allow fertile witches to marry, or to only allow them children with one wizard, will create even more chaos. They won't be witches getting married, they'll be commodities: bought by the highest bidder or stolen away by those desperate enough to do so.

"Then there's the genetic issue," Hermione continued. "If the Weasley witch marries Percy, you're losing the genetic make up of the rest of the boys. That may not matter to us, but to future generations you're effectively creating a tiny pool of possible partners. Cousins will be forced to marry, which will result in inbreeding. Pure-bloods have been dealing with this issue for years; I still maintain its the reason their birthrates have been so low." She shot Lucius a look; if he wanted to throw her Muggle upbringing in her face, she wasn't above throwing the lack of branching on his family tree at him. "It would be a deferment of our current problem onto later generations."

"We could bring in Muggle women," argued the second Unspeakable.

"You weren't a Ravenclaw, were you?" she asked, scathingly. " _Bring in Muggle women_? Are you just going to pull them off the street? Sell them to the highest bidder? Hand them out willy-nilly? That's _slavery_."

"Not to mention a violation of the Statute of Secrecy," interjected Percy.

"I'm not saying we can't encourage people to seek out Muggle partners," said Hermione, "but doing so certainly runs the risk, at the very least, of coercing women into marriage. One well-placed compulsion charm and all of a sudden Gretna Green is knee-deep in wizards eloping with _Confunded_ or worse, _Imperiused_ , Muggle women. Though, I imagine that would be a last resort for many wizards." She looked directly at Lucius, who shrugged and nodded.

"Hermione, you realize where you're taking this, right?" Severus asked gently.

"Yes, Severus," she snapped. "I realize that I'm saying witches just like me should get knocked up by multiple wizards to, once again, save Merlin-forsaken magical Britain."


	4. Chapter 4

_November 9th, 1998  
_ _Department of Mysteries—Ministry of Magic_

"That's indecent." Gerald Greengrass looked affronted.

Hermione bit her tongue before she could retort that it wasn't _his_ daughter that would get farmed out for baby-making.

"From a purely scientific standpoint, that's how we save our world. Again. Unless," she looked at Arthur, "we're going to kidnap Muggle women and resort to slavery. _Sex slavery_."

Arthur returned her gaze with the look of a frustrated father who knows he is being provoked. "How do we account for family ties? We don't want to set later generations up for failure because we didn't take the dispersement of…"

"Wombs?" Hermione offered.

"…into account." Arthur looked a bit sheepish about his concern.

Hermione nodded. "We'd have to group men accordingly." She looked at Healer Pye. "If each Weasley son is assigned to a different women, in two generations we'll have some serious issues with blood lines intermarrying, right? Assuming we have enough fertile women for it to matter, it would be better have a load of half-siblings from brothers raised as such, who won't be interested in each other when they start thinking about children. If the following generation can resist marrying their cousins, we should be fine, from a genetic standpoint."

Healer Pye nodded his head in agreement. As she glanced around the rest of the room, she noted various reactions. Percy looked pensive, but slightly disgusted; Lucius and Severus were wearing the trademark Slytherin mask of neutrality; Greengrass and Brett Davies, the legal representative who had been present at the initial meeting two weeks before, were speaking in low voices and occasionally glaring her way. She turned back to the Unspeakables and waited.

"What will you do with these children, if their parents are unmarried? Who will provide for them?"

Hermione shrugged. "I would assume the witches who will be giving birth will eventually settle down, so maybe they'll keep the children. Maybe the fathers will want to raise their offspring. I would imagine that's a personal decision for her and whatever partners she may have. That seems like an issue that could be addressed-or at least made provisions for, if we want a lighter legislative hand-in the bill."

"What about infertile women?" asked Gerald Greengrass. "They might want to take in children."

Hermione nodded, knowing he was thinking of Daphne. "That's true. And without a marriage law, we wouldn't preclude those women from getting married. While it's not ideal, we could encourage fertile witches to act as surrogates to couples who cannot conceive."

"And how do you propose going about conception? I can't imagine too many witches would be comfortable with their husband sleeping with another witch, particularly if pregnancy doesn't take immediately."

Hermione just stared at the Unspeakables. "Are you a wizard or not? We have fertility potions and rites to promote conception; it's not fool-proof, but it certainly helps. We can legalize the use of lust potions—heavily regulated, of course—to encourage couples who feel they need them. If infertile witches have a problem with it, well, we're all making sacrifices. That seems like an issue to be negotiated between the three involved parties. The Ministry can't regulate everything, you know."

"Well, haven't you just solved all the crises then?" The Unspeakable bit out his question.

"I did a sight better than you, and with a fraction of the time," Hermione spit back. "But maybe having a witch involved in these decisions—you know, the decisions you're all making about them—brought a new perspective to things. Who would've thought?"

Arthur decided to interrupt before wands were drawn. "OK, so a procreation bill. We require fertile women to have children. How many? How often? With how many different men? How do we determine the groupings of men? Do we require all men to participate?"

"Yes."

All the men looked at Hermione.

"What?" she asked. "Are you giving women who can bear children a choice to participate?"

The Unspeakable who didn't speak often scoffed. "Of course not! We have a finite number of resources."

"Exactly," said Hermione. "If we're considering women's fertility a resource, then we must consider men's genetic material as a resource." She glanced around the room. "Which of you would chose not to participate if you weren't forced to it?" She looked long at Severus, who returned her gaze.

"You know I would not."

"Exactly. And that would be a travesty. You're a wizard with genes that are markedly different from any other wizard in Britain. The a combination of the last remaining Prince and a Muggle? This project couldn't ask for better genetic make-up." Not to mention tall, dark, and, if not conventionally handsome, then striking. But she wouldn't editorialize.

She looked to Severus's right and sighed. "Just because someone is paired up does not mean they'll have another child this year or even next. Many people are still in mourning for their loved ones. I can't imagine what it would mean to lose your wife and then be asked to have a baby with someone you barely know." Her gaze drifted from Lucius to Gerald Greengrass. "But if forced breeding is the step we're taking—and, as grotesque as it sounds, that's exactly what we're discussing—then we need as much diverse genetic make up as possible."

"And what about someone like me, Hermione," Arthur asked. "Molly is still alive. We have six sons."

Hermione shrugged. "I would normally say that's a question for Unspeakables, but as it seems that they fail to grasp even the most basic concepts of genetics, bloodlines, and inbreeding, I wouldn't hold my breath." She took a deep breath. "Though I imagine as Minister, it would be frowned on if you required this of everyone but then exempted yourself."

Arthur looked despondent. Hermione felt pity for the man; three months into his term and it was disaster after disaster, and that was from a purely political standpoint. She couldn't imagine what Molly would say to Arthur having a child with another woman.

"You know we cannot pursue this until we understand how the plague would affect future female children, right?" Severus looked at the Unspeakables. "It would be unethical."

"I agree," said Hermione, "though I think the problem could be somewhat alleviated by pairings. If you pair pure-bloods with Muggle-borns, you already have as half-blood as you can get without involving Muggles. There will be a little more finagling with pairing half-bloods, but that's an issue for Arithmancy Masters. But to your point, there must be more research on the plague. Not just for future children, but for re-opening our borders and bringing British citizens abroad home." Bringing Luna home.

"And if we find an antidote for the plague, or at least determine it's safe to bear female children?" asked Lucius.

The table turned to Hermione. She knew what they wanted. She knew as soon as the Unspeakables laid out the problem what this would mean.

"Then you set me up with a gaggle of pure-blood men and slap me on the front of _The Prophet_. We all know I'm going to be the goddam poster-child for this travesty."

* * *

 _November 11th, 1998  
_ _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

It was only three o'clock, but Hermione was sipping her second firewhisky of the day as she went over the results the Arithmancers from the DoM had sent. It wasn't that she didn't think they could do their job, but after Monday's fiasco with the Unspeakables she wasn't taking any chances. Their calculations looked sound, if horrifying: every fertile woman of child-bearing age would be partnered with 5-7 men, and she would be expected to bear at least two children to each. Barring health complications, each man must have a child within ten years of the bill's inception. Accounting for standard health complications and death rates, this was the _bare minimum_ they could do to ensure Wizarding Britain's survival.

Ten children, _minimum_ , thought Hermione. Fuck.

From the library, she heard the roar of the Floo in the drawing room. She knew Harry was upstairs resting—he'd taken a leave of absence from the DMLE after Ginny's death and was only barely functional enough to care for his godson. Sirius, in an effort to give Harry a break, had taken Teddy to a park a few blocks away. She looked toward the door and saw a familiar shock of white-blond hair.

"Granger."

"Malfoy."

If one could gracefully plop, it would be Draco Malfoy. All long lines and designer robes and aristocratic features, he dropped unceremoniously into the seat across from her.

" _Accio_ tumbler."

A glass flew off the table and into his hand, and he slid it toward her. She opened the bottle of Blishen's and poured him two fingers.

"Make it a double."

She quirked an eyebrow and filled the glass another two fingers. He swirled the glass, staring at the amber liquid, before knocking it all back in one gulp.

"I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure this is sipping firewhisky. If you wanted the cheap shit I have a bottle of Ogden's around here somewhere."

"And you're in a 'sipping' mood?"

"At three in the afternoon I am. Ask me again in a couple hours."

Draco eyed the folder in front of her. "Arithmancy results?"

She closed her eyes and huffed. "What part of highly confidential does your father not understand?" She glanced up. "How much do you know?"

"Everything. If it helps, he made me take a wizard's oath to not reveal any information to anyone not already in the know. Thus, my presence in your esteemed company." His slight bow to her was mocking, but lacked contempt.

She rolled her eyes and shoved the folder at him. As he read through the results, she finished her glass and poured them both another. It probably was time to pull out that Ogden's, she thought.

"Fuck."

"You're telling me. Except, oh wait, I'm the lucky one who has the distinct privilege of sleeping with five to seven men the Ministry decides to pair me with, and then pop out at least ten kids for said men. Tell me again how bad you have it, Malfoy?"

"How about the part where my fucking fiancée died, leaving me alone in a Merlin-forsaken world where, to have the family I want, I have to share my children's mother with four to six other men?"

A blush rose to Hermione's cheeks. "I'm sorry. I know you and Astoria genuinely cared for one another, and I know that's rare in arranged marriages."

The sipped their firewhisky in silence.

"Harry isn't in great shape either."

"Well bully for us. Perhaps we should start a support group. The Dead Girlfriends Club? Although, unlike my other social circles, this isn't really an exclusive group."

"I guess you've moved on to the 'anger and bargaining' phase then?"

"What?"

"The seven stages of grief. Muggle psychological taxonomy. When you're grieving, you go through a process. Harry is still in the 'pain and guilt' stage, but you seem to have moved on to 'anger and bargaining.'" She stood. "Snack?"

"Crisps if you've got them." She left, and returned from the kitchen with a bag of crisps, which she threw at him, and an apple.

"So, Father tells me you're going to be the poster child for whatever law the Ministry decides to institute."

She nodded. "Makes sense. I'm a Muggle-born war heroine known to have a good head on her shoulders. If anyone should be fighting this bill, it's me. But I can also see the bigger picture, as I've been working on this since the beginning, and from an objective standpoint we have no choice. _I_ have no choice." She segmented the apple with her wand and held a piece in her finger. "Doesn't mean I'm even remotely happy about it." She examined the first slice before eating it. "It could be worse."

"You could be dead."

"I could be dead."


	5. Chapter 5

_November 18th, 1998  
_ _Department of Mysteries—Ministry of Magic_

"You're what?"

"We're giving you a choice, Hermione." Arthur pushed forward a stack of folders.

She looked at the folders but made no move to pick them up. "That hardly seems fair."

"Not much about this is."

She smiled at him. "That caveat about men who have living wives who have already born fertile children being exempt from the law seemed pretty fair to you."

Arthur shrugged. "You agreed to it."

"It was the best we could do in a shitty situation. The numbers didn't come out in favor of it—at least not enough to force the issue." She ignored the folders in front of her and put a hand on his. "I'm not happy in general. I don't think any of us are. But I'm happy for you and Molly."

Arthur nodded. After a moment, he cleared his throat. "As a Muggle-born, you'll be paired with a predominantly pure-blood group of men, although you'll see a few half-bloods who are closely related to each group have been included. These are the five files that have both optimum matches in terms of blood status, as well as being groups the Ministry felt comfortable putting at the forefront of this law alongside you." He gave her a long look. "You're not the only one who's going to be our voice to _The Prophet_."

Hermione nodded. "And because of that I get to pick my poisons, as it were?"

Arthur brought the tea service from the side board to the table and placed it slightly to her right. "As a matter of fact, yes. You've been through a lot Hermione. In the face of continual sacrifice, we thought this would be a small act of mercy for you."

He turned to leave.

"Wait, aren't you staying? Or is someone else coming, to go over the files with me?"

Arthur shook his head. "This is something you'd best do on your own. You'll see why." He turned back to her. "Please know that the whole team will support you, whatever you decide."

After Arthur walked out the door, Hermione took the first folder and opened it, glancing down at the list of six names.

 _Bill Weasley  
_ _Charlie Weasley  
_ _Percy Weasley  
_ _Fred Weasley  
_ _George Weasley  
_ _Ron Weasley_

She stared at the list and blinked. "Smartest witch of my age," she muttered. "I should've seen that coming a mile away."

Behind the list were six pages, each page devoted to a prospective father. It listed blood status, occupation, annual income, net worth and current residence. Charlie's file noted that, as a British citizen residing in Romania, he was not exempt, but it was uncertain when he'd be able to return due to the currently-closed borders. There were also notes regarding any recent losses; all the pages noted Molly's illness and Ginny's death, and Bill's page indicated he was a recent widower from the plague.

The most interesting section of each file were the handwritten notes on parent and partner involvement. For Bill and Percy, she knew these were their express wishes: as part of the response team, they knew enough about the law to know the details and to write in their own commentary. Bill wanted to be an active father for his children and wanted to co-parent with the mother, but he was hoping to put off his first child for a while in order to mourn his wife. Percy's notes indicated that he was 'involved' with Audrey Fawcett, a half-blood co-worker at the Ministry who had survived the plague but been rendered infertile, and he would want to talk with Audrey before making any final decisions regarding future children. He hoped his partner would be open to surrogacy for them, if Audrey agreed.

It seemed as though Bill and Percy had also sussed out their brothers' feelings, though she knew they had done so surreptitiously. Charlie had never expressed an interested in marriage or kids—Percy's neat hand had marked _Asexual?_ on his paper—and would likely function as an uncle to any children he eventually fathered. Hermione mentally berated herself for not accounting for sexual preferences when developing the law, but there was no hope for it now. It wasn't as if any of the participants had much autonomy in their bodies or sex partners for the foreseeable future.

Fred and George both wanted families, as did Ron. She, of course, knew about Ron. He wanted a family just like his parents: a stay-at-home wife and a house full of children. It was one of the reasons they had ended their relationship only weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts. That, and the fact that outside of defeating a power-hungry psychopath with Hitler-esque tendencies toward genocide it quickly became apparent that they had very little in common. The notes indicated that Fred had been dating Angelina Johnson before she died, and that George was involved with Katie Bell.

But Katie Bell is on the fertile list, thought Hermione. Why wouldn't she be the first choice for the Weasleys?

Hermione put the folder off to the side. She couldn't think about that now; she had four more folders to get through.

The next folder had five names.

 _Franklin MacMillan  
_ _Ernest MacMillan Jr.  
_ _Ernest MacMillan Sr.  
_ _Theodore Nott  
_ _Severus Snape_

That list was unexpected, and Hermione wondered at the connections. She knew both Severus and Theo Nott were the last of their lines; their most recent blood relative must have been related to the MacMillans. Franklin MacMillan, the Healer that had worked with Augustus Pye on the plague problem, was a nice enough man, much like his nephew, and she had great respect for Severus. Theo Nott wasn't someone she had spoken with extensively; she knew he was friends with Draco and that he had been less of an asshole to her during school than the other Slytherins, but that was it.

She noted that all five men listed had no current romantic involvements (though Ernest Sr. had lost his wife to the plague), and all wanted active participation with their children. While that had thrown her off in terms of Severus, given his reluctance to participate in the law, she surmised that since he had claimed the Prince inheritance he was likely thinking in the same terms of Theo and Ernie—heirs for the family. She wondered if such a thing mattered, as Severus was now a Snape rather than a Prince.

She set that folder aside and opened the next one.

 _Marcus Flint  
_ _Gregory Goyle  
_ _Callum McLaggen  
_ _Cormac McLaggen  
_ _Killian McLaggen  
_ _Tiberius McLaggen_

She shut the folder without glancing at the pages under the list and buried under the two she'd already looked at. Could a Ministry elf get her firewhisky? She could use firewhisky right about now.

Flint, Goyle, and McLaggen? What the fuck were they thinking?

She looked down at the two remaining folders. Anything would be better than the last folder. Anything.

The only specific person she recognized in the fourth folder, which contained another seven names, was Gerald Greengrass, though the surnames Burke and Rosier were familiar to her. She set that folder on top to examine later; it was certainly a site better than the one before it.

She eyed the last folder in front of her with trepidation. Her stomach was in knots, knowing that one of these folders held the names of men she was expected to have sex with, men whose children she would bear. These men would forever be in her life, in one way or another.

For a moment, she envied the women who would be assigned a group. For a moment, she wished this decision had been taken out of her hands.

She opened the final folder.

 _Sirius Black  
_ _Frank Longbottom  
_ _Neville Longbottom  
_ _Draco Malfoy  
_ _Lucius Malfoy  
_ _Harry Potter_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Surprise update! I realized that yesterday's chapter was_ _much_ _shorter than the others, and I got another two chapters written this weekend, so I figured I could compensate for yesterday with an extra surprise chapter. Enjoy, and remember: reviews are always appreciated! xx_

* * *

 _November 18th, 1998  
_ _Ministry of Magic_

"Arthur!"

When the doors to the Ministry lift opened, Hermione saw Arthur, Percy, and Gerald Greengrass in the hall in front of the Minister's office, looking over a file. Arthur's secretary looked at the young woman who had stomped toward the Minister, fire in her eyes and... were those sparks flying from her hair? The secretary, an older woman who had just returned from her own stay in St. Mungo's, thought about correcting the impudent witch about proper honorifics—honestly, who flounced around the Ministry calling Minister Weasley by his first name?—but thought better of it.

Gerald Greengrass looked up. "That was faster than we expected."

"Argh!" Hermione roared. "I need to speak with you three. In Arthur's office. Now."

"Hermione, are those…" Percy eyed the folders, marked _CONFIDENTIAL—DoM ONLY_.

"Yes, they are. Yes, I brought the with me. No, I don't care that it's a breach of confidentiality. Get. In. The. Office. Now."

The secretary noted that among the four people in the Minister's office, it was the 19-year-old slip of a witch who had three adult wizards cowering in… if not quite fear, then certainly apprehension. She leaned toward the door, but Hermione had already cast the strongest privacy spells she knew.

"Sit."

The three men did so, and she threw the folders on Arthur's desk and started pacing the room.

"The McLaggens?" she screeched.

"That whole file is pure-blood men, and the McLaggens have a long history with the Ministry. They're experts at being in the limelight and would handle the publicity well." Percy looked unapologetic, if sympathetic.

"And Flint and Goyle?" she snapped.

"Background characters in terms of publicity, but they're last of two pure-blood lines and the closest blood relatives of the McLaggens."

"I'm going to surmise that group is not your first choice." Gerald Greengrass took the folder and flipped through it. "They are very wealthy group. You and your children would be well cared for."

"They're all wealthy groups. Benefit of being matched with a bunch of pure-bloods. No, there is no way in hell that is happening." Hermione's heart clenched for a minute, knowing that someone—some girl just like her—would get that match. She breathed in the guilt, and then let it go; that was one bullet she was not biting, fuck the greater good.

She looked at Percy. "Do you really want me to have your kids?"

Percy shrugged. "Someone has to. And having the Minister's sons at the forefront of the bill will alleviate any lingering pressure on him to participate. Plus, you're a family friend. We know the relationships would be amenable."

"We know nothing of the sort," Hermione snapped. "This would change things. This _will_ change things. Do you really want to navigate this... _this_ with the ex-girlfriend of you highly-volatile youngest brother, for whom he may or may not have lingering romantic feelings? Wouldn't Katie be better, given that she's George's long-time girlfriend? It would still be complicated, sure, but at least there's an implicit understanding that there would be no romance for anyone but George."

She turned to Gerald Greengrass and simply raised an eyebrow. He held up his hands in defense.

"We are in the same position as the Flint, Goyle, and McLaggen folder. Pure-blood families, and my position in the Ministry and familiarity with the law make me an ideal figurehead. I assure you Hermione, you will not hurt my feelings if you do not choose my group."

She turned back to Arthur.

"Frank _fucking_ Longbottom?"

Gerald looked confused; Percy looked at him and mouthed 'Janus Thickey Ward.' His look of confusion changed to horror directed first toward Arthur, and then to Hermione.

Arthur ran his hand through his hair. He was definitely starting to grey. "This is a question of genetics, Hermione. We're even drafting prisoners from Azkaban, though you'll note none were among your files."

"Frank Longbottom raises a question of consent, Arthur. He cannot give it."

"And we're offering that option for everyone else?"

"At least they _know_ what is going on! They have some semblance of awareness. What you're asking of me… I can't. Plus, Neville will never agree." Her voice trembled. "He'd never forgive me." Hermione flopped down on the chair next to Percy. "We're monsters."

"We were put in this situation by monsters, and we're doing the best we can," argued Gerald. "You do have another option."

She thought about the final folder, with Severus, Theo Nott, and the MacMillans. She had other options.

 _She_ had other options.

"Even if I pick a different group, that means someone else will be paired with Frank Longbottom. Or Gilderoy Lockhart. Or any other myriad patients who cannot give consent. It's unacceptable."

"Hermione…"

"No. I understand the need, but it's wrong. Put them on lists, make a gesture toward their inclusion, but treat them as you're treating out-of-the-country residents, like Charlie. Until they can give consent—until they are removed from the Janus Thickey Ward and considered cured of their mental ailments—those patients have a reprieve. You want my cooperation in this? You want me to play nice and be a pretty poster girl? This is my non-negotiable."

Arthur watched her long, but nodded once. "We'll see what we can do."

"Take some time, Hermione," said Gerald. "No one expected to see you for hours." He chuckled. "Honestly, we figured you'd march back up not only with your match, but with suggestions for the other four."

"Like Katie," added Percy.

Hermione took two deep breaths, sat up, and held out her hand to Arthur. He neatened the folders and handed them back to her. She took them, flipped through quickly, and threw one back on his desk.

"Hell. No."

She walked out of the office and back toward the lift, dismantling her privacy spells as she left. Gerald took the folder off Arthur's desk, opened it, and chuckled.

"Not a fan of Cormac, I'm guessing?"

* * *

Once Hermione had settled back in the conference room, she spread out the files in front of her. She moved the Weasley file to her far left, almost positive she would not choose it. She wondered if her close relationship with the family would make it harder, rather than easier, to become the mother of all the boys'—men's, she chided herself—children. She certainly didn't expect Ron to handle any aspect of this particularly well.

But she wouldn't remove them from the running just yet.

She opened the file that had Gerald Greengrass.

 _Francis Burke  
_ _Franklin Burke  
_ _Gerald Greengrass  
_ _Edward Rosier  
_ _Grant Rosier  
_ _Lachlan Urquhart  
_ _Niall Urquhart_

She flipped to Gerald's page first. She knew the basics of Gerald's life, including the loss of his wife and youngest daughter. He noted on his page that, as he was still in mourning, he would prefer to wait for children and let the other men in his group take precedence. He did want an active hand in raising his child; he was willing to negotiate with the mother whether that would be as a primary or secondary care giver.

It seemed the Burkes, Rosiers, and Urquharts were more concerned with raising an heir. Both Niall and Grant had been betrothed to pure-blood women who had died, as had their mothers and Franklin Burke's wife. Francis Burke, according to Gerald's notes, was likely more interested in Niall or Grant than any prospective mother of his child. Gerald also indicated that none of the men, however, would likely desire any immediate romantic entanglements.

Hermione had been frustrated about the commodification of fertile women, but now she found herself in the unfortunate position of weighing these men—at least as they appeared on paper—against those in the other folders. Who had more money, who lived where, what kind of relationship did they want with their children and their children's mother?

She set the folder to her right. It was both more and less tempting than the one full of redheads to her left.

She opened the next folder, which listed the MacMillans, Theo, and Severus.

Ernest MacMillan Sr. and Franklin MacMillan were brothers. Franklin, younger than Ernest by almost ten years, had been unattached before the plague, and noted he was effectively married to his work and had no interest in romance. Ernest managed the family's estate and served on the Wizengamot, and was training Ernie to follow in his footsteps. They lived at their family seat, Brockloch, in the Southern Uplands; Franklin had a flat in London near St. Mungo's.

Ernie, Franklin had noted, was not actively dating when the plague began, and would likely be interested in trying a relationship with his children's mother, if she was amenable. Hermione frowned at that. Ernie MacMillan was nice enough, and quite bright, but he and Hermione had never had much contact outside of the DA.

Theo Nott's sheet listed a family manor in Cornwall as his residence. His finances made Hermione's jaw drop. His family was all deceased; his mother had died in his childhood, and his father had died at the Battle of Hogwarts. He had been tried and found not guilty of being a Death Eater; he was not marked, nor had he participated in any fighting.

The notes on his sheet were in a different script than the MacMillans; she imagined Lucius had interrogated Draco for information on his friend. Apparently, Theo was adamant that he raise any children he would father, but was "resigned" to not having any romantic relationship with their mother. Hermione frowned at that word, but moved on.

Severus Snape. Heir to the Prince estate, whose family seat was near Shrewsbury. A net worth significantly less than Theo's, but nothing to scoff at, particularly when she looked at his income he was already generating with his apothecary. The only notes on his sheet were in a sharp scrawl she was intimately familiar with from her Potions essays, which read _I would request involvement with any children my partner bears. I am willing to be the primary caregiver, should she concede to such a demand_.

Hermione wondered at the deferential tone in this statement. Did he not think he would be given the opportunity to raise his children? Her heart broke for a man who had spent so much of his life alone, unloved, and unappreciated.

She put this folder on top of the one to her right. She couldn't place it, but something in her gut made her prioritize that group over Gerald Greengrass's. It didn't hurt that there were only five men, rather than seven.

She drew in a deep breath and opened the final folder.

Sirius Black. Former Azkaban resident proved innocent. Former dead man, spit out of the Veil when Molly Weasley obliterated Bellatrix Lestrange at the Battle of Hogwarts. Scion and Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. A man of leisure, which was unsurprising given the Black vault contents. Currently residing with his godson, godson's ward, and female roommate at Grimmauld Place.

Hermione chuckled at 'female roommate'. There were no additional handwritten notes.

Frank Longbottom. Long-term St. Mungo's resident in the Janus Thickey ward. Driven to insanity by Death Eaters in 1981, but non-violent. His wife, another long-term resident of the ward, had died from the plague. There was a note that Frank had been more agitated than usual since her death. His file included a picture, and Hermione studied it. She could see his relation to Neville: the brown hair that had just a bit of wave, the full lips, the strong jaw, the eyes. The picture was from the shoulders up, but she could see the top of his St. Mungo's hospital gown; he looked more confused than anything, but not unhappy.

Neville Longbottom. War hero. Scion and last of the Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom. Pursuing a Mastery in Herbology. The file noted he was also studying with Garrick Ollivander to better understand his role as Head of the Longbottom House and all the duties, including the family seat on the Wizengamot, therein. The notes on his sheet indicated a desire for children, particularly an heir for the House of Longbottom. They also noted the recent death of his fiancée, Hannah Abbott.

Draco and Lucius Malfoy. War villains. Draco had been found guilty of crimes but exonerated given his status as a minor and threats made against his family to force his complicity in Voldemort's plans; Lucius had been found guilty but released based on post-war cooperation with the Ministry. Scion and Head, respectively, of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy, the wealthiest family in Wizarding Britain. In Lucius's elegant script, she read that Draco had recently lost his fiancée, but would be willing to have children as soon as possible; Lucius was still mourning the loss of his beloved wife. Any male children either fathered would be raised at Malfoy Manor. Hermione sniffed at the blatant sexism.

Harry Potter. War hero. Scion and last of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. Auror-in-training at the DMLE. Living at Grimmauld Place with his godson and current ward, Edward (Teddy) Lupin, godfather, and a female roommate. Aside from the standard information, there were no additional notes; Hermione assumed Arthur any since Hermione knew him better than anyone.

She closed the file and pushed it away from her.

As if there was ever any choice.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Constructive criticism is always useful and appreciated, so thanks to *everyone* who has left a review. A few of you have pointed out some plot holes, some of which will be address and others which just didn't cross my mind and probably won't make it into the narrative. Such is the case with reviews mid-narrative process. (I also appreciate reviews that are as simple as "great chapter!" because if nothing else it compels me to keep writing!)_

 _I will go ahead and point out that this is fanfiction about people who wave sticks and do magic, so we're already suspending a lot of disbelief just by reading works based in JKR's world. And if my version of a 'marriage law' fic isn't your cup of tea, or my characters/pairing aren't to your liking, no worries! This is a popular trope in HP fanfiction, and someone is_ *bound* _to have one you like._

 _As always, thanks for reading! xx_

* * *

 _November 20th, 1998  
_ _Daily Prophet_

 _MINISTRY ANNOUNCES PROCREATION LAW!_

 _Claims law will save Wizarding Britain_

 _by Andy Smudgley_

 _In an unprecedented move, the Ministry of Magic has instituted a law requiring all able witches and wizards to begin having children as soon as the Ministry declares such unborn children to be safe from the Pure-blood Plague. The Act to Protect and Conserve Wizarding Bloodlines and Magical Heritage—or the Procreation Act for short—was ratified in an emergency Wizengamot session last night._

 _"We are teetering on the brink of extinction," explained Minister of Magic Arthur Weasley to the esteemed governing body of magical Britain yesterday. "Between the Second Wizarding War and the Pure-blood Plague, magical Britain is in crisis. The Procreation Act is the solution that the best minds of our world have come up with."_

 _The Procreation Act, as it was ratified into law last night, pairs fertile witches over the age of majority (17) with five to seven wizards chosen by the Ministry. The groups of wizards have been compiled by the Department of Mysteries to account for familial ties in future generations, and all pairings are being made based on optimum blood mixtures, in terms of response to the plague. All wizards must undergo fertility testing at St. Mungo's to ensure their participation can result in children._

 _Marriage is neither explicitly required nor encouraged in the law._

 _"We felt it would be unfair to force women to marry," explained Advisor to the Minister, Gerald Greengrass. "If a couple finds happiness in their group, we wish them the best! However, we feel it is an unnecessary step, particularly given the number of witches unaffected by this law but who may still wish to marry." Greengrass noted that fertility potions would be available to ensure timely conception for those who were unmarried, or married to other partners, and that lust potions, though monitored closely, would be available for those disinclined to procreate with their partners._

 _A surprise supporter of this law is Hermione Granger, best known as the brains of the Golden Trio, which also includes Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and Ronald Weasley, son of the Minister of Magic._

 _"As a proud Muggle-born witch who will certainly be affected by the Procreation Act, I cannot think of a more effective way to ensure our culture's survival. Without this law, magical Britain will soon cease to exist in any meaningful way, and Muggle-borns like me will be left with no means of learning about or developing their magic. It would be a travesty."_

 _When asked about her role in designing the Procreation Act, Ms. Granger conceded early knowledge of the act. "The team that dealt with the fall out of the Pure-blood Plague needed the input of both a witch and a Muggle-born to ensure the law was as fair as possible for all parties. I am honored by Minister Weasley's faith in me, and I believe I represented the concerns of all witches, including those unable to have children as a result of the plague, to the best of my abilities."_

 _In an act of good faith, Ms. Granger has released her Ministry matches: Sirius Black, Frank Longbottom, Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, and Harry Potter. Frank Longbottom, a resident of St. Mungo's Janus Thickey Ward, will be granted a stay of inclusion for the duration of his time at the hospital, as will any other residents caught up in the law._

 _"While some may certainly think I lucked out by being paired with Harry, my matches are by no means perfect—we certainly have a lot of details to hammer out in the coming weeks! I am thankful that I have an amicable relationship with most of these men, and I hope we will find a balance that works to ensure all our future children are raised in happy, healthy homes."_

 _Witches and wizards who do not comply with the law will have their magic bound and be forced to live as Muggles in Britain. Advisor Greengrass noted that these individuals will be closely monitored by the Ministry, as leaving Britain for any reason is expressly prohibited._

 _"Just because someone chooses not to participate does not absolve them of ethical behavior," he told_ The Prophet _. "Even with their magic bound, they are still carries for the Pure-Blood Plague. Having an individual who is a carrier come into contact with someone magical beyond Britain would have catastrophic consequences for the world."_

 _The Ministry has announced a series of small group discussions to different groups affected by this law, including women who will be expected to bear children._

 _"It's important we have spaces to connect and support each other, as well as productive outlets for any issues and frustrations" said Ms. Granger. "We're all in this together."_

 _We wish Ms. Granger, and all the witches and wizards affected by this act, our best._

 _For a copy of the law, see the Special Insert enclosed in today's_ Prophet _._

* * *

 _November 21st, 1998  
_ _Daily Prophet_

 _HERMIONE GRANGER: BRITAIN'S DARLING AND CHAMPION OF PROCREATION ACT_

 _by Rita Skeeter_

 _Hermione Granger, the plain Muggle-born girl who rose to fame on the coattails of Harry Potter, is no stranger to high-profile romances. In her fourth year at Hogwarts, Granger was connected to two of the four Tri-Wizard Champions—Bulgarian Seeker and international heartthrob, Viktor Krum, and the infamous Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter—resulting in a dramatic love triangle that lasted the duration of the tournament. After the tournament, Ms. Granger continued her relationship with Potter while also being closely linked the Minister of Magic's son, Ronald Weasley, with whom she carried on a brief affair after the Second Wizard War._

 _Now, the seeming Golden Girl has finagled her way into the hearts—and trousers—of some of Wizard Britain's most eligible bachelors._

 _Her 'serendipitous' pairing with the new Procreation Act links her to both Draco and Lucius Malfoy, Head and Scion of the wealthiest family in magical Britain and former You-Know-Who henchmen; Frank Longbottom, resident of the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's; his son, Neville Longbottom, whose heroics at the Battle of Hogwarts have had witches swooning for months; and finally two scions of near-extinct but quite wealthy Houses, Sirius Black and Harry Potter. This reporter has discovered that Ms. Granger, prior to the Procreation Act, already lived with both Mr. Black and Mr. Potter. One can only wonder at the nature of such a living situation._

 _Ms. Granger's 'luck' in such a pairing comes as no surprise to those of us familiar with the witch. Though she is considered by some to be the brightest witch of her age, she known by others to have an ambitious streak a mile wide and a penchant for famous, handsome, and wealthy wizards._

 _This reporter can only speculate as to how 'lucky' Ms. Granger actually was, or if her close, personal friendship with the Minister of Magic helped Lady Fortune smile on her in these trying times._

* * *

 _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

" _Incendio_."

Hermione watched as the morning edition of _The Prophet_ burned to ash on the kitchen table.

"That good?"

Hermione looked up at the doorway and into the dark grey eyes of Sirius Black. The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he gestured to the ashes on the table. "I assume today's front page wasn't concerned about Snape's breakthrough on the plague antidote?"

"No, that's classified information. You only know about it because you snuck through my work files last night." She gestured to the plate of pancakes in front of her. "Breakfast?"

Sirius pulled up a chair, crossing his right ankle across his left knee, and shook his head. "In a minute." He eyed the stack of pancakes. "Chocolate chips?"

"I thought we could all use a pick-me-up today." She gestured to the teapot, and he nodded. They sat in silence as she pour his cup, adding just a dash of milk before sliding it across the table.

She had never once felt self-conscious around Sirius. Her comfort around Harry was a foregone conclusion; after living in a tent for a year, she could practically bathe in front of him with no shame. While she didn't feel quite that at ease around the older man, the fact that she wore her pajamas to breakfast had never once seemed to bother him and, subsequently, never bothered her.

Until now.

She thought about how she must look to him, swamped by oversized plaid drawstring pants that clashed with a Gryffindor Quidditch jersey she'd swiped from Harry long ago, with her frizzy hair, which she'd braided the night before, falling loose from the plait. She'd brushed her teeth—an old Muggle habit she couldn't seem to kick, despite the efficacy of hygiene spells—and washed her face, but that was the usual extent of her morning routine until after she was caffeinated.

She probably looked a fright. Poor, beautiful Sirius; if he had to have children, it deserved to be with someone equally striking. Even still mussed from sleep, he was a vision. His dark hair fell easy around his high cheekbones; his demeanor was a casual elegance that, for all her populist leanings, Hermione was sure on had to be born with. He wore his standard silk pajama bottoms, red today, and, in a fit of uncharacteristic modesty, a thin black t-shirt. She was keenly aware, however, of the thin but defined chest he was hiding underneath. A shirt for Sirius before breakfast was a rare thing indeed.

It would certainly be beyond awkward to sleep with Sirius, but she could imagine worse-looking bedfellows. And very few better-looking ones.

"Kitten?"

"Yes?" How long had he been waiting for her reply?

"I asked what time our meeting was today."

The meeting. The _meeting_. God, she was not looking forward to the meeting.

"Eleven. I thought if it went well, we'd have a light lunch; if it crashes and burns, those of us left standing can have a liquid lunch."

Sirius nodded absently, then leveled an unreadable stare at her. "You know, I'm not thrilled with this."

"Neither am I."

"I will be a wretched father."

"I believe you're wrong, but I can understand your concerns."

"I'm not thrilled with the idea of sleeping with my godson's best friend."

"I'm not thrilled with the idea of sleeping with six different men for the express purpose of becoming pregnant by each. We all make sacrifices." Hermione cocked her head. "And I'm a little offended that you see me as Harry's friend rather than your own. I do consider you a friend, Sirius."

He raised his palms toward her in apology. "I misspoke, Hermione. I also consider you a friend. But your Harry's age, and he's James and Lily's son, and that makes me old enough to be your father."

"It does."

"That doesn't bother you?"

She shrugged. "Not really. James and Lily were very young parents; in the wizarding world, twenty years really isn't that big of a different. My father was almost ten years older than my mother, and they were Muggles. Plus, age is only a number, and when we account for your maturity level you're _much_ younger." She grinned at him, and he smirked at her. "It'd be much worse if you were some starry-eyed teenager with illusions of seducing me into some grand romance. Or you could be as old as Dumbledore. Some wizards have children well into their 90s. Were that the case, I'd be brewing quite a bit of Polyjuice prior to your turn on the Hermione carousel, my earlier comments about age notwithstanding."

He blinked at her. "I'll admit, I was expecting you to be more upset, at least in private. Where is the firecracker that founded SPEW?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. She'd long ago given up correcting her friends on the pronunciation of her misguided crusade for house elves who, it turned out, needed to serve to survive. She considered it a personal feat that Kreacher had agreed to leave Grimmauld Place for Hogwarts, saving the sanity of all the house's residents, and that Dobby had accepted terms of a Sickle a week and one day off a month in service to Harry. Anymore, her friends raised the issue to embarrass her.

"I'm not sure what ranting and raving will get me at this point. The other ideas that were offered were, well, even more outrageous. And I will _Avada_ the first person who tries to take my magic. This, at least, will solve the problem, even if it makes a few generations of witches and wizards miserable."

"Miserable? Oh, I don't know about that." Sirius winked playfully at her. "You've got a good looking group of wizards, even if some of us are a little worse for the wear."

"Oh, I wasn't talking about me specifically, though I had been hoping to put off children for at least a decade, and raising a gaggle of them isn't exactly appealing. No, somewhere out there is a woman who has been matched with the surviving Flint, Goyle, and the McLaggen families."

Sirius choked on the sip of tea he had just taken. "Poor girl."

Hermione nodded. In an uncharacteristically catty move, she had suggested Romilda Vane for the group. However, given Romilda's pure-blood mother, she had been matched with a group of Muggle-borns instead. The witch assigned to the folder of her nightmares was not someone Hermione knew; she hoped the poor girl would be all right.

"Was Katie matched with the Weasleys?" Sirius asked.

Hermione nodded. "She's technically a half-blood, but since she has no known connection to any pure-blood lines it worked out. They'll get their letter today along with everyone else, but I'm sure Arthur has let George know he has nothing to worry about."

"Do you know of any more matches?"

Hermione shook her head. She did, actually, but she couldn't share that information with Sirius.

Hermione's wand started to vibrate, and she picked up it. "Teddy's awake. I'll take the early shift and make sure he gets breakfast, but if you could take over by nine thirty or so I can get ready for the meeting, I'd appreciate it."

"When is Molly coming by to pick him up?"

"Ten-thirty. She said she could take him for the whole afternoon if we needed."

Sirius nodded, and _accio_ -ed a plate. He loaded a short stack of pancakes on it and drizzled maple syrup over them. "Not a problem. Go get the kiddo. I'll finish up and get ready, then the cub and I will head to the park. Maybe I can have him ready for a morning nap by the time Molly shows up."

Hermione nodded her thanks, grabbed her wand, and headed up the stairs. She didn't notice how Sirius's gaze followed her as she left.


	8. Chapter 8

_November 21st, 1998  
_ _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

Nothing calmed Hermione's nerves like making tea. It was a meditation for her, as calming as the act of drinking the tea itself. While water boiled in the kettle, Hermione gathered the tea service. Her mother's heirloom English rose service, which she always preferred when company came, had four teacups, but she had found some basic bone-white china in the cupboards to account for her two additional visitors. The silver tray barely accommodated everything, but she still fiddled with the saucers to make it look perfect.

While the kettle reached boiling, she filled the creamer with milk and checked the sugar bowl. She arranged the shortbread biscuits she'd made the night before on a plate, and if she took too long making the plate look just so, well, no one could fault her nerves. She brushed the imaginary crumbs off the skirt off her knee-length navy wrap dress, and pulled at the elbow sleeves to straighten out the similarly-imagined wrinkles.

Once the kettle boiled, she added a bag of English Breakfast to the teapot and poured the water over. She thought about making a second pot, but decided against it; she knew, as her visitors did, that the tea would serve as a comfort measure more than anything. It was what the British did when confronted with conflict. Bad day at work? Have some tea. Rough break up? Have some tea.

Forced by your government to have children with multiple men? Have some tea.

While the tea steeped, she stood at the counter and inhaled in the smell.

Deep breaths, she told herself. You can do this. It will be fine.

After tossing the bag in the rubbish bin, she cast a quick _Tempus_ and, noting it was exactly eleven, picked up the tray and slowly made her way up the stairs to the drawing room.

She walked into the room just as Dobby was taking the Malfoys' cloaks. Neville had already settled in one of the wingback chairs, and he smiled wanly at her as she entered the room. He was evidently tense, with his back ramrod straight and his fingers tightly laced over his knee. She could see similar tension in Draco, though years of Slytherin training had made his anxiety almost imperceptible. His eyes, a combination of the dark grey of his mother and the ice blue of his father, indicated an unease she was unused to seeing in the aristocrat. Lucius, resolute as ever, sat on the divan, and Draco quickly joined him. Sirius, who had been leaning against a bookshelf chatting with Neville, moved to take the tea tray from her and set it on the coffee table.

Despite her earlier reminders about the _meeting_ , Harry had yet to make an appearance.

"Neville, Draco, Lucius, it's so good to see you all. May I offer you some tea?" She settled herself on the chair next to Neville's, crossed her ankles, and smoothed out her skirt. As she fixed their cups, she glanced to the doorway, willing Harry to walk through it.

Lucius took a cup—black, as usual—and shocked Hermione by also taking a biscuit. "Will Mr. Potter be joining us?"

Her eyes darted to Sirius, who was also looking toward the door, and then to Lucius. "Harry will be down in a moment."

The group sipped in silence, and Hermione surveyed the future fathers of her children. Neville had never become very comfortable with his new status as wizarding heartthrob. She could see the remains of the nervous, chubby boy she'd befriended on the Hogwarts Express, but she could also appreciate the man he'd become. Despite his discomfort, he wore his light grey robes well, and his tanned skin betrayed many days of working outdoors. His hair had darkened with age, no longer the dirty blond of his childhood but rather a light, almost ashy brown that he kept slightly long, but neat. Of all the men in the room, he was the only one with brown eyes, a cinnamon color she remembered reflected in his father's picture.

The Malfoys seemed to mirror one another, sitting on the divan with their matching Slytherin masks. But Hermione noted the differences between the two men: Draco, despite his nerves, held his body more casual—more like Sirius than his father—and allowed his knees to fall to the side rather than firmly planting his feet, as Lucius had. Lucius's mouth was more narrow than Draco's, his nose slightly more aquiline. The elder Malfoy's robes were, as always, perfect, while Draco had forgone a waistcoat and tie.

Sirius was a picture of deceptive calm; he had collected Teddy dressed for a cool November morning, but had decided against a jacket for their meeting. His dark denim pants paired well with his black waistcoat and dark grey shirt. She wasn't surprised by his informality; since he'd returned from the Veil, she'd only seen him in dress robes at funerals.

They all heard Harry before they saw him, and Hermione made every effort not to look in his direction as her entered.

The Savior of the wizarding world all but ran into the drawing room, and it was apparent he'd only rolled out of bed moments ago. His black hair wasn't the indicator; that was always a mess. Rather, the jeans he was wearing were rumpled from being piled on the floor, and he was still pulling his burgundy jumper down as he came to a stop in the doorway. He looked around at the more formal clothes of the other men, his eyes widening when his eyes found Hermione, and he blushed.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "This morning got away from me."

"Quite," quipped Lucius.

Harry collapsed in the last available chair and made no move for the tea.

China clinked. Robes rustled. The silence stretched before the six of them uncomfortably.

Hermione was both terrified to begin this meeting and desperately wishing it was already over.

Finally, she broke the silence. "I want to thank you all for being here today. I know this is an untenable situation, and one that is upsetting for all of us, but I'm hoping today we can have a civilized discussion about what the Procreation Law is going to mean for us, both individually and as a group, moving forward."

She paused, hoping someone would jump in, offer her sympathy or reassure her that everything would be fine.

They all stared at her.

"It's worth letting you know now that the Ministry is going to be placing our group at the forefront of the law's publicity campaign. I know Lucius and Draco are aware of this, and I've already mentioned something to Sirius." She glanced at Neville and Harry. "I will do my best to mitigate your involvement in the PR campaigns, if you prefer, but it's unlikely you'll be able to escape it completely."

Harry continued to stare out the window, though Hermione thought she saw his shoulders tense.

"What do you mean by PR campaigns?" asked Neville.

"I was interviewed by _The Prophet_ regarding the law, and the Ministry will probably push them my way for more quotes and whatnot. i'll also be leading one of the support groups for fertile witches, at least initially, and the Ministry has requested that you all attend at least one group for wizards in your situation. There will be an extensive profile of our group as soon as I'm pregnant, and similar profiles will likely pop up for the next few years as the wizarding world adapts."

"Basically, if you are contact by a news source regarding the law, you should toe the Ministry line or refer them to Hermione or another more amenable member of our group," summarized Lucius.

Neville nodded.

"Will that be a problem for anyone?"

Sirius cleared his throat. "I'll be honest, it's probably best to keep _The Prophet_ away from me for a bit." Hermione nodded, and looked at Harry.

"You know they'll want the input of the Chosen One."

He shrugged and didn't say anything. At least that wasn't an outright no, Hermione thought.

"On a more personal note, I think I should let you all know that I really didn't want children for another decade or so. I had hoped to finish my Mastery in Runes and settle into a career that I loved before starting a family. Obviously, waiting on a family is no longer possible, but I do plan to pursue my research and eventually have a career. Obviously, with Professor Babbling's death, the situation with my Mastery has changed, but I hope Headmistress McGonagall will be able to work with me to find a replacement mentor in the near future."

She looked at Neville. "Do you know how your Mastery will be affected with Professor Sprout's passing?"

His face took a grim countenance. "I've reached out to a few Masters in Britain to see if they would be willing to take over as my mentor. I also sent McGonagall a letter, as Pomona had indicated her desire for me to take her position at Hogwarts once she retired. Everything is up in the air, really, but that's no surprise. I'm hoping to hear something substantial by the end of the year."

Hermione nodded. Neville excelled at Herbology, and Professor Sprout had taken him under her wing for much of his time as a student. Though he would likely be remembered as the war hero who led an in-school rebellion and beheaded Voldemort's horrific snake, she knew he preferred quiet, peaceful afternoons in greenhouses to fighting dark wizards.

"I also cannot imagine having a child whose life I'm not involved in. I know that five of you will be providing heirs for your house, and as such will be raising your children in your respective House traditions. But I do envision my children being raised as siblings, even if they do not live in the same place. That means, as a group, we'll need, at the very least, a civil relationship between the six of us as well as any romantic partners you all may end up pursuing." She looked long at Lucius. "I do not want any lingering animosity between you all to affect our children."

He nodded once. She glanced at Draco, Sirius, and Harry, who offered varying degrees of concession.

"I also need you to reinforce this with any future romantic partners you may have. I will demand civility between adults. Should any of you choose to marry in the future, I will gladly support you as long as I maintain a presence in my children's life."

"I don't think that is a concern right now, Hermione," said Sirius gently.

"No," she conceded, "but it may be in the future, and I want to go on record now as having drawn this line."

He nodded.

"On a related note, I imagine I may need to rotate between homes based on a variety of factors. I have a room here, obviously. Would it be a problem to set aside a room at Longbottom Hall and," she gulped, "Malfoy Manor?"

Draco set his cup and saucer on the table. "Father and I have already begun clearing out a space for you in the family wing of the Manor. We imagine you'll want an opportunity to make it your own. We would request that during the pregnancies and immediately following the birth of any Malfoys, you reside at the Manor." He briefly paused. "I know it has bad memories for you…"

"That's an understatement," muttered Harry.

"… but we can ensure that your never even near the same wing where Bellatrix tormented you."

The thought of returning to Malfoy Manor made Hermione's hair stand on end, but she knew it was important to Lucius and Draco, and it was important to making their relationship as a group work. She dipped her head slightly to indicate her agreement.

"I would like you to stay at Longbottom Hall for a period after the birth of any of my children," said Neville. "You would be welcome there during your pregnancy as well, though I will not insist on it if you're more comfortable elsewhere."

She nodded.

"How will you handle the inclusion of Frank Longbottom in the group?" asked Draco.

Neville looked a little green at the mention of his father.

"The Ministry has granted a reprieve to those of us matched with residents of the Janus Thickey Ward," Hermione explained. "He will stay on my list, but until he's found competent enough to be released—which would mean competent enough to understand the Procreation Law—he will not be required to participate."

"Good," Sirius said, rather forcefully.

It was clear that line of inquiry was closed.

It's now or never, Hermione thought.

"I know there are other elements of this arrangement we'll need to discuss, but I really think we should address the hippogriff in the room: who goes first," Hermione set her teacup down and folded her hands at her knee to hide her trembling. She decided humor was the best approach and defense mechanism for her biggest concern. After all, it wasn't like she had a choice in the matter. "Anyone want to get it over with?"

No one moved. No one spoke. No one so much as looked at Hermione.

The trembling moved to her jaw. Was she really so bad? Had she ruined these men's lives by picking their folder?

No, this wasn't about her. Some of these men were grieving, some were embarrassed, and all in the same untenable position as she was. She wouldn't take this personally. It wasn't personal.

Deep down, she admitted, it felt quite personal.

She cleared her throat. "This will have to be decided sooner rather than later. As you all know, I've been put at the forefront of this law and, subsequently, have been asked to become pregnant as soon as possible." She watched that sink in. "Severus has been working on an antidote specifically for fertile witches; he has assured me that he should know one way or another on his current hypothesis by the end of the year. If he's successful, the Ministry wants a baby in my arms by next Yule."

Lucius spoke first. "Narcissa and I were together almost twenty-five years. While I am looking forward to more children, it will take some time to reconcile that she will not be their mother. If everyone is amenable, I would like to wait."

Hermione nodded. "Understandable." She looked around the room, making eye contact with Sirius.

"You know my reservations, kitten. Plus, I think of all the men in the room I'm going to need to most time to grow up and prepare for fatherhood." He smiled. "Let me get in a little more practice in with the cub."

Hermione looked to her best friend, who stared out the window and avoided any eye contact with her. She sighed.

And then there was silence. Long, painful silence. And she resolved that this time, she wouldn't be the one to fill it. Let them be uncomfortable. She'd held their hands through this whole meeting, and damned if she was going to hold it through this. She was a victim as much as anyone else, and she would not be made to feel like the executioner.

"One of the younger men makes the most sense, as they'll all be continuing their lines," Lucius shot a long glare at the other older man in the room, letting him know exactly what he thought of Sirius's reluctance to provide the House of Black with an heir _tout suite._

Sirius chuckled. "C'mon lads, there's nothing to be shy about. After all, it's not like you'll be some awkward, blushing virgins on your wedding night."

Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes at Sirius's choice of words, and then pushed them down. She could do this. There was nothing to be embarrassed about. But though she held off the tears, she could feel a deep blush rise up her neck, up to her cheeks, and she felt the heat of it burn and burn until she was sure she was bright as a cherry. She wondered if she could surreptitiously cast a cooling charm, but figured that would draw more attention to her than she wanted.

Had they noticed?

She looked up, to five men staring directly at her.

They had.

Dammit, Sirius.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Thank you_ JazminaPashmina _for pointing out it's "Janus THICKEY" not "THICKNEY." I've only been mispronouncing that in my head since, oh, I don't know, 2003? Woops! I've updated previous chapters to correct for the error._

 _See, aren't reviewers great? As always, thanks for reading! xx_

* * *

 _November 21st, 1998  
_ _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

Of the various reactions, she was least surprised by Lucius, who was looking at her completely unfazed. Draco's eyes had widened and his jaw had tensed. Neville's blush mirrored hers; it was so deep he was almost purple. Sirius had dropped his teacup. She, admittedly, had expected some sort reaction from Harry, and she could see a faint red creeping up his neck, but after a brief meeting of their eyes he turned back to resolutely staring out the window.

"You're a virgin?" asked Draco.

"Yes," she said simply.

"But you were on the run with Potter and Weasley for a year!" he exclaimed.

"Hunting dark artifacts. It wasn't exactly a romantic getaway."

"Viktor Krum?" asked Sirius.

"A Rita Skeeter fiction. We were never anything more than friends, though he did kiss me the night of the Yule Ball." She paused and wrinkled her nose. "I was also fifteen at the time, and three years younger than him." Sirius shrugged at that. Hermione wondered at what age he'd lost his virginity.

"Ron?" asked Neville. "Weren't you together this summer?"

"We were," she said, leveling her gaze at him, "but, as I said, I have not had sex." Keep it together, she admonished. This is nothing to be ashamed of.

"Not to be intrusive," asked Lucius, his voice measured and tone neutral, "but do _you_ have a preference as to your first partner?"

Hermione thought a moment, and then shook her head. "No, not really. I will be with all of you at some point, and I have no prior romances or infatuations with any of you. Dating has been the furthest thing from my mind since I ended things with Ron. I've actively avoided romantic entanglements, actually." She took a deep breath, bracing herself for her next request. "If possible, I would prefer someone who has some experience; I understand the first time is often painful for women, and that is not something I'm particularly looking forward to."

"I think we all have 'experience,'" drawled Lucius.

Hermione glanced at Neville, who nodded. She knew that Harry and Ginny had been intimate, but she wasn't sure about Neville and Hannah. She spared a look at Draco, who caught it and just rolled his eyes at her.

"Yes, Granger, I've had sex." After a beat, he smirked at her. "Would you like me to do the honors?"

For the first time since he'd apologized for his lateness, Harry Potter looked interested in the conversation. His eyes shifted between Draco and Hermione, clearly unsure of how to feel.

"I would make sense," Draco continued. "My father, Longbottom, and Potter need serious time to mourn. Black has said he wants to wait, and he and Potter are already raising a kid. I need an heir, and I can work on my Potions apprenticeship with Severus at the Manor. I'm the best choice to go first."

"Are you OK with that?" Hermione cocked her head. "Me not being Astoria?"

Draco smiled. "Merlin, Granger, just when I think you know everything. You know I cared for Astoria, and I miss her, I genuinely do. But we weren't in love."

Hermione raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Astoria and I were friends. We certainly could've grown to love each other, which is more than most pure-blood marriages could hope for. But I'm not in the same position as Potter and Longbottom." He threw the two men the closest thing to an apologetic look as he could muster, given who he was and who they were.

Hermione swallowed. Was this OK? Was this what she wanted? Who she wanted?

Breathe in, breathe out.

"All right."

Draco smirked at her and leaned back. "OK then."

"I'd like to continue spending some time with each of you," Hermione declared before Draco could say something completely embarrassing. "Even if we don't have a child for years, I want to make sure we have a good relationship on which to found co-parenting, in whatever form that will take. I think this will be increasingly important if any of you starting dating. I don't want end up on the wrong end of another witch's wand because I'm Ministry-mandated to have her boyfriend or husband's baby.

"I also think we should endeavor to spend time together as a group. Our children will grow up together, so we need to be as united in that regard as possible."

Lucius stood. "That sounds like an reasonable course of action. I need to get to a meeting at the Ministry, but why don't you join Draco and I for dinner tomorrow night? As he will be 'going first,' as you say, we'll want to make sure we prepare the Manor as best we can for you as soon as possible." He walked toward her, and when she nodded he took her hand and chastely kissed it. "Gentlemen."

Draco, Neville, and Harry all stood, as it was evident that Lucius's departure signaled the end of the meeting in any official capacity.

Draco cleared his throat. "Potter, Longbottom." The two men eyed him warily. "It has been brought to my attention that we'll be spending a lot of time together, as will our children. And while being an only child allowed my parents to dote on me, there were days I would've traded everything I had for the big family it seems our kids will have. I also don't want my future children to suffer for the faults of their father." He swallowed. "So, I'd like to apologize for being a prat in school." He looked at Harry, and then to Neville. "To you both." He stuck out his hand, waiting for one of the men to accept his apology.

Hermione was shocked, but smiling. Sirius was smirking. Harry was obviously skeptical, but Neville seemed thoughtful.

Draco's hand hung uncomfortably in the air.

"I really hated you in school, Malfoy," Neville said eventually. "My gran was convinced I was a Squib before I got my Hogwarts letter, and you and your Slytherin groupies tapped into all that insecurity and made it so much worse." He regarded the blonde. "But I think, in the long run, you prepared me for that last year with the Carrows." Draco blanched at that. "I mean, you put things in perspective, in a way. Because after I saw them _Crucio_ a first year, I realized that as awful as you were, you weren't evil. Comparatively, you were nothing." Neville had glanced at Draco's outstretched hand, so he the way the hard line of Draco's mouth faltered at that pronouncement. Hermione, however, did not.

"And I understand wanting more out of your childhood than you had," Neville finally finished. He took Draco's hand and shook once, firmly. Then he turned to Hermione. "Would you like to come over for lunch on Monday? I can show you Longbottom Hall, and, if it's warm enough, the gardens. I've started preparing a section for my proposed Masters project."

She smiled brightly. "That would be lovely." He took her hand and, with a quick kiss to it, was gone.

Hermione turned back to the room. Sirius, at some point, had slipped out, and now Harry was left eyeing Draco warily.

"I don't trust you."

Draco nodded.

"I don't trust you, and I really don't trust you with her. I get why we're grouped together, I do; the Black family tree is a piece of work, and the fact that you and your father are some of my closest living relatives is, frankly, disturbing. And though I'm glad you're not in Azkaban, because I think you and your dad recognized Voldemort's bullshit in the end, we're not friends. Don't pretend otherwise." Harry turned and left the room.

Hermione watched Draco's jaw, which had gone from loose but resigned to rigid over the course of Harry's speech. His eyes were hard and cold.

"He's grieving," Hermione explained softly, placing her hand on his arm. "And he's always been a little melodramatic. With Ginny gone… He has a lot of misplaced emotions right now and I think some of that is going to get directed at you, whether deserved or not."

He nodded once, but did not look at her. She waited.

After a few moments, during which Hermione noticed his breathing became perceptibly more purposeful, Draco unclenched his fists. "So, dinner tomorrow?"

"I hope you don't expect to take me on a tour. I feel like I'm making a rather magnanimous gesture in agreeing to stay at the Manor, and I fully expect you to hold up your end of the bargain. I don't ever want to see that drawing room again. Ever."

"Of course." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Would you like to have dinner with me next weekend? Just me. I thought if… well, if you'd like me to make your first time good and you don't want to resort to lust potions, we'll need to get a little more comfortable with each other."

Hermione blinked. "Like a date?"

"If you want."

"I don't have time to date." The reply, which she'd been using since her split from Ron in June, was well-rehearsed and automatic.

"OK. I'll just see you tomorrow then." He was gone in a flash of green flames before she could even process what had just happened.

* * *

"What the fuck was that?"

Harry was lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling. "Can we do this later, Hermione?"

"No, we can do it now."

"Look, I'm not sorry for what I said to Malfoy…"

"Screw what you said to Malfoy! You think I give a damn about the drama between you two? You've got plenty of time to reconcile the shit you need to work out with him." She marched over to his bed and sat down with a huff. "I'm talking about your behavior today. Harry, you're technically the owner of Grimmauld Place—it was your responsibility to welcome Neville and the Malfoys and play host. Instead, you run in late after my repeated reminders about the meeting, you barely say two words to anyone… it was beyond rude to them, inconsiderate of Sirius, who was on Teddy duty this morning and not really prepared to receive anyone, and unfair to me."

"I said I was sorry."

"And then you sat in a chair, stared out a window, and said nothing. Nothing! Harry, do you understand what is going to happen? I have to have children with every man in that room. That includes Lucius and Draco Malfoy. That includes Sirius." She poked him in the chest. "That includes you, you insufferable git!" He winced.

"Look, you've barely spoken to me in the last week. Sirius _never_ sees you. Teddy's whole world has been thrown for a loop with Andromeda's death, and you hiding up here isn't helping him at all! Where are you, Harry?"

Harry turned to his side, facing the wall. "I'm really tired, Hermione. I promise I'll come down for a bit when Teddy gets back, OK?"

Hermione felt her rage well up and crash out of her. But instead of screaming, she started to cry. The tears surged forth and, unable to stop them, she buried her face in her hands. She willed her friend to come to her, to comfort her, but he did not move from the bed.

Once she finally had her breathing under control, she moved to the door. "I have always, _always_ been there when you needed me, Harry James Potter. When everyone else, including Ron, left you, turned their back on you—I was there. And I will always be there. I know you feel like you've lost everything, and I know you miss Ginny with your whole heart, but you're not the only one. And we are still here, Harry: me, Teddy, Sirius, the Weasleys. We're here for you. But we also need you. Teddy _needs_ his godfather."

Before she left, she whispered, "And I need my best friend."


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: I'm discovering that this story is what we like to call a "slow burn." I'm a few chapters ahead, and we still don't have an official romantic pair (we're getting super-close!) much less any smut. Just something to keep in mind for the next few chapters._

 _And now it's time for some Black family genealogy! (An explanation prompted by janethejhon, who asked how Neville is related to the group.)_

 _The most relevant common ancestor for our procreation group is Phineas Nigellus Black, the least popular Headmaster in the history of Hogwarts. According to JKR's Black Family Tree, PNB married Ursula Flint and had five children: Sirius Black II, Phineas Black II, Cygnus Black II, Arcturus Black II, and Belvina (Black) Burke._

 _Phineas II and Belvina are irrelevant for my purposes: Phineas II was disowned and no marriage/descendants are recorded on the Black family tapestry. Belvina Burke has no listed genealogy on the tapestry and, for my story, has no extent descendants and is thus not a blood ancestor of the included Burke men in the Gerald Greengrass group._

 _Sirius Black II is the great-grandfather to Sirius Black III (the SOB we all know and love)._

 _Cygnus Black II is the great-great-grandfather to Draco Malfoy (via Narcissa [Black] Malfoy). Lucius is included in the group not because of his ties to the Black family, but because of his close genetic link with Draco, who is part of the group via the Black family. I'm taking some extra liberties here, as my head-canon is that Harry's grandmother is Dorea (Black) Potter, which would make Cygnus Black II his great-grandfather. I know *technically* canon is that Harry's paternal grandparents are Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, but that was only officially incorporated into canon in 2015, and I cut my fanfiction teeth on stories with Charlus and Dorea Potter as his grandparents. So... yeah, I'm claiming Harry for the Blacks. Call it creative license._

 _Arcturus Black II had three daughters: Calliodora (Black) Longbottom (making Arcturus II Neville's great-great-grandfather), Cedrella (Black) Weasley, and Charis (Black) Crouch. Arcturus II is technically the great-grandfather of the Weasley boys, but they were moved into a separate group because they constitute a close genetic group on their own. Theoretically Neville could have been placed in the Weasley group, but then Hermione's group would have had five men, including Frank. This distribution gives both groups six men, with five actually available for children. (Frank is on the Janus Thickey Ward, and Charlie is still in Romania.)_

 _So between Hermione's group and the Weasley boys, all extent Black family men (plus Lucius-thanks Draco!) are accounted for. Other men who could have mattered, but for their being dead, are: Regulus Black, James Potter, and Bartemius Crouch Jr. (perhaps the Prewett twins, if we assume that Lucretia [Black] Prewett is their direct ancestor, but that's not explicitly stated in any JKR references)._

* * *

 _November 22nd, 1998  
_ _Malfoy Manor_

When she Flooed to Malfoy Manor the following evening, Hermione was expecting a number of things. She expected to have a flashback to the evening she was tortured by Bellatrix. She expected to butt heads with Lucius over something to do with the future Malfoy children. She expected Draco to be cold to her, given her dismissal of his invitation to dinner. She expected to stumble over her apology to him. She didn't know if she wanted to date, but the idea of being more comfortable with Draco was a sound one, if she wanted a positive first time and an amenable relationship afterward.

She did not expect to step through the Flow and see Draco locked in an embrace with Daphne Greengrass.

His arms were wrapped around her, and her head was buried in his shoulder, and Hermione pushed down the twinge of jealousy that threatened to flare forth. After all, hadn't he asked her to dinner just yesterday?

She stared at the pair as they separated. Daphne flushed but Draco unrepentant. They made a striking pair: both tall blondes that wore their aristocracy as clear as day. Daphne had bright blue eyes and posture that spoke of many days as a young child balancing books on her head. Her black robes and matching heels were elegant and showed off her willowy figure.

"I apologize, I'm a tad early. I didn't realize I'd be intruding," said Hermione, a forced smile accompanying her polite voice.

"No, it's my fault. I should be going." Daphne blinked a few times, and then looked at Draco. "Thank you. I'll see you Friday."

He squeezed her hand. "Friday."

Daphne offered Hermione an apologetic smile before she disappeared in the Floo.

"Shall we?" Draco's cool voice sent a child down Hermione's spine. He offered her his arm, the perfect image of polite host, the distance between them absolutely correct as she escorted her to the dining room.

"I'm glad to see Daphne is well enough to visit," said Hermione after they'd seated themselves for dinner. A well-dressed house elf popped in with the soup course and was gone in the blink of an eye. Hermione said nothing, but raised an eyebrow at Lucius.

"We will endeavor to compromise on your pet projects, Hermione. I know house elves are something of a soft spot for you." He smirked at her, and then looked at Draco. "I did not realize Ms. Greengrass had come to visit."

"It was a personal visit. Their Floo has been approved for limited travel, but the family is still not up to general callers." Draco did not look at Hermione.

"I see." He looked long at Draco and then turned to Hermione. "Have you spoken with Severus recently?"

She shook her head. "I'll see him in the lab tomorrow. He's running experiments on his fertile witches' antidote, and he wants to bounce his thoughts off me for a bit. I also think he needs a bit of a break from actually brewing." She paused. "Arthur has also asked me to drop by his office tomorrow."

Lucius nodded. "Do you know what about?"

"No idea. Perhaps to talk about the PR plan? Although I can't imagine it's deviated much since we last spoke, since Severus is still in the experimental stages with the antidote."

She spared a glance at Draco, who was focused on the soup in front of him. He hadn't spoken to either of them unless directly addressed, but he had not been overtly rude. This wasn't the Draco she'd been getting to know over the last few months, nor was it the Draco she knew from school. He seemed, if anything, like her early interactions with Lucius on the response team: polite but cool.

"I imagine it has something to do with the Procreation Department. Given your… emphatic contributions to the Act itself, I can't imagine he wouldn't ask you to be a part of the administration that oversees its implementation." Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Surely you'd considered that possibility."

She hadn't.

"It's unfortunate for Arthur, then, that I'm quite set on pursuing my Runes Mastery. And I actually don't need a job. Since Harry and Sirius don't charge me rent, I can stretch the small trust I have from my parents until my education is complete."

"Hermione, given the fathers of your future children, I don't think you need to worry about living expenses ever again. You'll be well cared for."

She bristled. "I don't want to be dependent on anyone. I appreciate that all of you are quite wealthy, but it's not _my_ wealth. Though Harry and Sirius are adamant about not accepting any rent money, I feel terrible for not contributing to Grimmauld Place."

Lucius smirked. "One might say that providing heirs for their Houses will be quite the contribution."

She blushed.

Lucius directed the conversation for the remainder of the evening, asking about Hermione's preferences regarding everything from breakfast preferences to decorative style. He invited her back the following Sunday for dinner, noting that they could tour the wing of the Manor where she'd be staying then.

"Perhaps until you move in, we could make Sunday dinner at running engagement?"

She agreed, and Lucius retired shortly thereafter, citing early meetings at the Ministry. Draco was left to play host.

"You must also be ready to go," he said. "After all, you've a busy day tomorrow. Meetings and work all morning, and then your lunch date with Longbottom. Let me walk you to the Floo."

Hermione marveled at how utterly emotionless he was. She had seen his Slytherin face; she had seen him act like this with others. But once they'd started their friendship shortly after his acquittal, he'd never acted like that _toward her_.

"Thank you. I am a bit tired," she followed him to the Floo. "And it's not a date."

He nodded once. "As you say."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed a fist of Floo powder. "Goodnight, Draco."

* * *

 _November 23rd, 1998  
_ _Longbottom Hall_

"Am I being too sensitive about this, Neville?" Hermione picked at the crisps on her plate, grateful her host had opted for light lunch after a fairly heavy dinner the night before. "I feel ridiculous."

She was, he thought, maybe, just a bit ridiculous. After all, she was the one who had declined the date. But thinking about the future mother of his children dating one of his—what were they? co-parents?—was making his brain hurt a little, so he decided not to force the issue.

"You're entitled to your feelings, Hermione, and you don't have to explain them to anyone. I'm not terribly shocked that Malfoy asked you out—women like you are in short supply, and were even before the plague. I _am_ a little surprised that you found him with Daphne the next day. Last I heard she was engaged to Blaise Zabini." He pushed his plate forward and decided to focus her mind elsewhere. "Would you like to see the gardens?"

They walked for a short time, intimately but not touching. Had had grown, she thought, seemingly overnight. Like Ron, he'd shot up and now had near half a meter on her. She pulled her peacoat around her and watched as he pointed out the beds where he was cultivating potions ingredients. The grounds at Longbottom Hall were extensive, and their walk took them the better part of an hour.

"And your Mastery project?" she asked, as they turned back toward the house.

He gestured toward a small shed. "I'm preparing an Orchid House. I've been corresponding with an Herbologist at Mahoutokoro. Japan's use of orchids in healing is something that we've never incorporated here in Britain. I'm going to grow several different varietals here. If they do well, I'll spoken to Snape about working together to see how our healing potions could be augmented by their use." He shoved his hands in the pockets of his grey trousers. "Master Sasaki said orchids have been used primarily in mental health potions in Japan."

Hermione put her hand on his arm. She waited.

"I'm not expecting a cure or anything," he continued. "I know what happened to them… there's no coming back from that, not completely. But if I can bring a little clarity to him, a little healing…"

"It's worth it," she finished for him. "I am a little surprised you're working with Severus."

Neville shrugged. "We trade letters. I don't know that I'll ever be… you remember school. But after the Battle, he wrote to me and thanked me for killing Nagini—he said her attack was worse than anything he suffered at Voldemort's hands. We started exchanging letters and… well, he's less intimidating when he's not in person."

Hermione nodded.

"Once the orchids are matured and we start incorporating them into potions, we'll probably need to meet face-to-face. Hopefully by then I won't be so terrified of him."

"I'm sure it will be fine. He must think your project is quite exceptional, to offer to work with you. It sounds like you have every reason to be hopeful. I'm sure your parents would be quite proud of you." She squeezed his hand. "I know I am."

He gave her a small smile. "Hannah used to come visit them with me. Not often, mind you, but… well, it seemed important that they know her." He paused. "I thought maybe you might… I mean, you don't have to… It might be awkward because of the list, but…"

"I'll come visit your dad with you anytime you want, Neville," Hermione said. "He's important to you, and you're important to me. And if you're successful, well, I'll have to get to know him, won't I?" He blushed and nodded, took her elbow, and gently guided her back to the house in amicable silence.

When they reached the Floo, Hermione took his hand. "Let me know what you hear about your Mastery. And let me know when you'd like me to go with you to visit your dad." She squeezed. "Seriously, Neville. Anytime."

He nodded. "And you don't worry about Malfoy. The whole world has been turned upside-down this last month. You're entitled to a little time to get used to everything. We all are."

She kissed him on his cheek and left.

As he walked to the library to read a new book on Eastern Herbology he thought about Hannah. Beautiful, sweet Hannah. How she'd held his hand when he first told her about his parents. How she'd offered to join him on his visits if he needed her. How she'd never looked at him with pity, as so many did, but rather with concern and love.

He was reminded that what first drew him to Hannah was the fact that she had quite a bit in common with Hermione.

* * *

 _November 24th, 1998  
_ _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

"Teddy, if you finish your peaches, I'll take you to the park this morning before I go to work. Swing? Want to go on the swing?" She spooned the peach puree out of the small bowl and waved it in his face. He stuck his drool-covered fist in his mouth, covering it in un-eaten puree and blocking the spoon's trajectory to his both. He laughed, spraying puree around his fist and into Hermione's face.

She wiped the mess away. "You know, kid, you're not really selling me on this whole having babies business right now." She sighed and ran her fingers through his shaggy blue hair; how did puree get _there_?

Hermione was tempted to _Tergeo_ the mess away, but she'd read that babies magical cores didn't settle until a year old, and so using magic on them wasn't recommended.

"Looks like we're going to go have a bath, Teddy! Want to take a bath?" She smiled broadly at him and nodded her head yes.

He opened his mouth and started to wail.

I don't have time for this, Hermoine thought. I need to get the lab and to discuss the antidote with Severus, Arthur wants me to meet about the Procreation Department, I have to confirm the room reservation for the first fertile witches meeting tomorrow… Where the bloody hell are Harry and Sirius?

An large owl knocked on the window. Hermione didn't recognize it and, given the response to her support of the Procreation Act, wasn't in any hurry to find out what hex was waiting for her in this letter.

When Hermione returned to the kitchen with a clean Teddy in tow, the owl was still knocking.

She opened the window. "Fine, you menace, drop it there."

A short series of spells revealed nothing malicious in the letter, so she picked it up. It was fairly heavy vellum, and sealed with wax.

 _Dear Ms. Granger,_

 _Please accept my sincere apologies for intruding on your time at Malfoy Manor Sunday evening. I'd be most gratified if you would join me for tea on Friday at 4. Our Floo has been cleared for limited travel; the address is 'Greengrass Place.'_

 _Warm regards,_

 _Ms. Daphne Greengrass_


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: This is a super-long chapter, but, alas, it's a witches-only space. No wizards for now-but don't worry, they'll be back soon!_

 _Also, this weekend_ Pax Matrum _hit 150+ reviews, 100+ favs, and 300+ follows. That's nuts to me. Completely nuts. You're all great, and I appreciate each of you following along (and reviewing) all my tomfoolery. You're great._

* * *

 _November 25th, 1998  
_ _The Leaky Cauldron_

Hermione looked down the long table at the nine sets of eyes peering back at her. She had done her best to memorize the names of the women she was meeting with. Some, of course, she knew. Katie Bell and Vicky Frobisher had offered her tentative smiles, but taken up the mantle of silence the other women had adopted. Most of the table sat glaring at her, occasionally sipping from their butterbeer.

She had offered to meet with a number of fertile witches groups, but the emerging Procreation Department had decided to pair like groups of women with like. The women at her table were between 17 and 21 and had been pair with predominantly pure-blood groups of men, which, she knew, was a bit of a different dance in the wizarding world than a group of Muggle-born men.

Once more unto the breach, she thought.

"Thank you all for coming tonight," Hermione said. She forced a smile on her face. "I know these last few days have probably been hard. That's why we're here: to give us an opportunity to talk, vent, and problem solve with witches in similar situations. To know we're not alone. This group is younger, mostly Muggle-born women who've been matched with predominantly pure-blood men. It's a group that comes with its own, well, cultural issues." She laughed uncomfortably, then continued. "I thought it'd be good for us to meet each other, both now and for when issues come up later. I hope you leave here tonight with at least one witch you can reach out to for support, and you can always come to me with questions or if you're having issues."

Katie nodded supportively, while a woman at the end of the table scoffed. The rest of the women just stared.

"I thought we'd start by introducing ourselves and talking a bit about our matches, if we feel comfortable with it. I'll start. I'm Hermione Granger. I didn't graduate from Hogwarts, but I sat for my NEWTs this summer so I won't be going back. I've been matched with six men, but you all already know who they are. My biggest problem right now, aside from the general implications of the Act itself, is… well, I'm matched with both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Those two are like oil and water."

Katie Bell snorted. Hermione looked at her and smiled. "Katie, do you want to go next?"

The blonde girl shrugged. "I'm Katie Bell. Half-blood, graduated Hogwarts two years ago. I was matched with six brothers, the Weasleys. My biggest problem is that one of the brothers, George, was my boyfriend before all this went down. We're happy to stay together but… well, things have been tense."

One by one the girls introduced themselves. Hermione was happy to see that the Muggle-born witch who'd been paired with the Goyle, Flint, and McLaggen group was a no-nonsense Ravenclaw whose biggest concern was whether or not she had to marry any of her partners, or if she could still search for romance outside her pairings. Hermione assured her as long as she complied with the law's parameters, that was certainly an option. Vicky had been paired with Gerald Greengrass's group; she made a note to speak to her later and let her know she could trust Gerald.

"I'm Becca Shaw," said the final girl, a pretty brunette with glasses. "I'm Muggle-born, and I've been paired with the MacMillans, Theodore Nott, and Prof… Severus Snape." She tripped over the last name. "My biggest problem is that I'm living at home because school is closed and, well, it's not like I can tell my parents what's happening. And without Hogwarts open, I don't have anywhere to go. And my parents are already on edge because of the war…" the girl hiccuped as tears started falling down her face.

Shit, Hermione thought. How did I not think of this?

"You can't be the only Muggle-born girl at Hogwarts in your year," said Katie. "What are the other girls doing?"

Becca shrugged. "There weren't any other Muggle-born witches in Hufflepuff my year, and I wasn't close with anyone in other houses. Most of my friends…" She didn't finish. She didn't have to. All the women in the room had lost friends to the plague.

"Maybe you should leave and live as a Muggle," a woman said from the end of the table. "Maybe we all should. I mean, it's not like we don't know the Muggle world. I don't understand why any of us are seriously considering this."

"Then why are you here?" asked Hermione, without any malice. She had gone through this thought process many times in the last week, so she knew where this woman was coming from. She'd venture all the women at the table had considered 'going Muggle' to avoid the Procreation Act.

The woman shrugged. "I figured I'd hear you out before leaving the wizarding world. That doesn't mean I'm all in."

Hermione nodded. "Leaving is a choice you can make. I imagine we've all though about it a few times since we found out what our future will hold. That said, having your magic bound and 'going Muggle' is a serious decision to make. Do you know what it would mean to have your magic bound?"

The woman shook her head, but Katie shuddered.

Hermione smiled tentatively. "There's a reason binding one's magic is almost never used as a punishment. Even our criminals in Azkaban don't have their magic bound, despite the fact that most are incarcerated for life and will never again use magic. To bind a witch or wizard's magic is to cut off an intrinsic part of themselves. Your magical core impacts who you are in ways that even Unspeakables haven't fully comprehended. Have you ever had a word that was just on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn't for the life of you remember what it was? That feeling of being so close to something, yet so far away? Having your magic bound is experiencing that feeling all day, every day. Most people who have their magic bound ask to be _Obliviated_. It's considered a small mercy; though they can't access their magic, they'll never know what's missing."

The women around the table looked thoughtful, but not terribly scared. They should be, thought Hermione.

"The problem now is that we cannot _Obliviate_ any witches or wizards who choose this path now. We're all carries of the plague; what if an obliviated witch decided to take a quick weekend trip to Paris? What if she had lunch at a café, ubeknownst to her, next to the Rue de Magique, and infected a French witch or wizard? You see, without knowledge of the plague, a British magical, even with their magic bound, could break the travel ban and potentially infect other populations. So the one small mercy of having your magic bound would be gone. You would be missing and intrinsic part of yourself, you'd know exactly what was missing, and you'd never be able to access it. You'd also never be able to have magical descendants, since with a bound core there would be no way for your magic to infuse a child."

Most of the women looked properly scared now.

"To go through life feeling like you're missing something—I'm sure some people feel that way. To know _exactly_ what you're missing, to feel its absence every moment of every day, and be powerless to find it—I wouldn't wish that on anyone. But it is a choice that's open to you."

The woman at the end of the table pursed her lips, but raised no more objections. Hermione wasn't surprised that most of the women didn't know the implications of having their magic bound; it certainly wasn't polite conversation, and most witches and wizards only learned about it from personal research or if they worked in law enforcement.

"I don't want to lose my magic," said Becca quietly.

Katie looked at Hermione. "You have to talk to McGonagall. See if any other girls are in this situation."

Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment and noted Becca's concerns, adding that there may be complications when Hogwarts did reopen for of-age witches and wizards.

"Becca has pointed out a pretty glaring problem in the way the Procreation Law is being enacted as it relates to current Hogwarts students," she said. "Are any of the rest of you having similar issues? Or other issues?"

"Other than the fact that I am engaged to someone who is _not_ on my bullshit list?" spat another woman. "He got matched with someone else. We're _both_ Muggle-born. But does what we want matter? Of course not!"

The other women looked at her sympathetically.

"I'm so sorry," said Hermione. "I can't imagine…"

"No, you bloody can't!" the woman snapped. "None of you know what it's like."

"He's alive," said Katie. "Be grateful you can still be together."

"So's your boyfriend, and you got _matched_ with him." The woman sent her a hateful glare. "Don't pretend like you've got it worse."

"I don't, you're right," Katie said, dangerously calm. "But my best friend is dead and my boyfriend's twin—her boyfriend—is devastated. He was going to propose on her birthday last week. So I'm sorry if you have it bad, but the person you love is still alive and if you love each other you'll figure this out."

The woman crossed her arms and glared at Katie.

"We're all entitled to our feelings," said Hermione, glancing between the women. "It's OK to be angry. It's OK to be upset. It's also OK for us to ask each other to put things in perspective." She looked around the table. "Is there anyone else, like Becca, who has a logistical problem I need to take to the Ministry?"

Either there were no more issues, or the women didn't feel comfortable posing them to Hermione, because they eventually descended into smaller conversations while picking at the snacks Hermione had ordered.

Hermione herself was relieved that no one had hexed her outright. Responses had been mostly curt, but no wands had been drawn. She sipped her butterbeer and simply listened to Katie and Becca talk for a bit.

"It's just weird, you know? I mean, last year I wasn't at school because, you know, Muggle-born, and before that he was my professor. And now…" Becca blushed. "I know it could be a lot worse, but…"

"I get it," said Katie. "I was never a fan of Snape. I stopped taking Potions after my OWLs because I couldn't stand him." She glanced to her right. "You might ask Hermione about him. She's been working with him."

Becca turned to her, her glasses emphasizing her bright hazel eyes.

"Have you met with him yet?" asked Hermione.

Becca nodded. "We all met at Brockloch yesterday, and he came to get me from my parents' house. I was able to spin a yarn about Hogwarts stuff, and Snape played the part of apologetic professor, talking about the problems last year and why I wasn't able to attend. Honestly, after reading the stuff in _The Quibbler_ , I'm grateful I wasn't there. Anyway, when we got to Brockloch, he asked me to call him Severus! It was so weird. And then, when he took me home, he said I could come to him with anything and that his Floo was always open." She crinkled her brow.

"What?" asked Katie.

"Well, when I say that it sounds weird. I mean, if Ernie had said his Floo was always open I probably would think he wanted me to come over to… you know…" she blushed.

Sweet Circe, thought Hermione. How is this little girl going to ever have sex? She can't even say the word!

"But it wasn't like that—at least I don't think," continued Becca. "But it wasn't like he was being a professor either. It was… I don't know."

"Severus has had a hard life," said Hermione. "And he's definitely a mean git. But he's a good man. You can trust him." She took a sip of beer. "Knowing Severus, he'll cut through any bullshit the other men in your group try to pull with you and make sure you get what you want, within reason. He's invested in your happiness because you'll be the mother of his children."

Katie shuddered at that.

"Katie!"

"C'mon Hermione, it's not like poor Becca doesn't know."

"Know what? It's not like she has to be in love with the man, or even find him attractive." She looked at Becca. "If the potions do what they're supposed to, you'll only have to sleep with him twice, and I don't think he'd be dismissive if you requested a mild lust potion. As far as him as a father, I think he'll be wonderful." She looked back at Katie. "I really think she's quite lucky."

Katie rolled her eyes in clear disagreement. "What about the your other matches, Becca?"

She shrugged. "Ernest—Ernie's dad—did most of the talking. Ernie was Ernie. You know how he is, right Hermione? He's a nice enough guy, but he's… well, he's a lot. Franklin and Theodore didn't say much at all."

"Did you know Theo before this?" asked Hermione.

Becca shook her head. "I vaguely remember seeing him around school." She pursed her lips a moment. "Ernest kept saying things that seemed to make Theodore uncomfortable. He didn't stay very long."

"Like what?" asked Katie.

"How we all had to make the best of this situation, but wasn't it terrible what Death Eaters did to us all and how he was glad they were all dead or in Azkaban." She paused and looked down. "I mean, I'm really angry about all of this, and I'm certainly no Death Eater sympathizer, but I also know Theodore's dad died in the war. Even if he was a Death Eater… it just didn't seem like a very kind thing to say with Theodore sitting right there."

Katie and Hermione didn't say anything. Becca was right, it wasn't a kind thing to say—rather rude, really—but it was also true. It was Voldemort who commissioned the plague potion, it was a Death Eater that made it, and Hermione thought if Theo Nott's dad was still alive he'd burn the world to the ground before allowing his son to have children with a Muggle-born witch.

After a long silence between the three, Hermione asked Katie how things had been with the Weasleys.

Katie sighed. "I'm trying to be grateful, I really am. With Charlie out of the country, I only have five to deal with. And I'm with George, which is wonderful. We're both trying very, _very_ hard to remember that. Particularly when he thinks about me being with his brothers." She shuddered a bit. "He knows in his head that, for us, this is the best possible outcome in this situation, but he feels upset and jealous that he'll have to share me."

Hermione made to say something, but Katie stopped her.

"We don't mean like that, although he's not thrilled with that either. He means as a mother. George has always wanted a big family, but now it looks like our big family won't be, well, ours. It's not that it won't be there, it'll just be different, and it's not an easy thing to get used to. It's particularly hard on George and Fred. They're so used to sharing everything that this new forced situation has them unsure of where they stand with each other. George doesn't want to upset Fred because he's still reeling from Angie's death, and Fred is terrified George will hate him for taking part of me away."

Katie took a sip of her butterbeer. Hermione could see her trying to rein in her emotions.

"We told the guys this weekend that whenever we got the clear to have kids, that George was going first—it's non-negotiable. It's important to our relationship, particularly since we decided not to get married."

"What?" Hermione blurted her question out louder than intended, and the whole table of women paused to look at her. She blushed and averted her eyes, and conversations slowly began to pick up again. "You're getting married?"

"We were going to, but with the Procreation Law we decided to wait. We didn't want to jump in and then discover our relationship couldn't handle… well, everything."

Hermione nodded. "I guess that makes sense." She picked at some crisps on her plate. "I'm a little surprised I haven't heard from Ron yet."

Katie gave her a small smile. "He's having a rough time. George said when they first got their letter Ron wanted to Floo right over to Grimmauld—he was furious that you weren't the match—but Fred grabbed him and made him throw his tantrum at the Burrow. The twins got him to calm down, and talked to him a bit, and now I think he doesn't know _what_ to think."

Hermione nodded. "That's Ron, going off half-cocked. I'm quite glad you were matched with the Weasleys. You'll get to stay with George—and it's not like Ron and I were a great couple anyway. I don't know what he was thinking, wanting me to be the match." Hermione bit her lip and then decided to forge ahead. "If you see Ron soon, tell him to come visit Harry."

"How is he?"

"Not great. He could use a friend around to get his mind of things. I'm sure Ron could do the same. I can make myself scarce. Harry's not too fond of me at the moment either, so it'd probably be best to give them a little bonding time together."

"What's Harry's deal?"

Hermione shrugged. "Ginny, mostly. He's grieving hard, and he's taking out his anger on those closest to him." She paused. "Having Draco Malfoy as a future co-parent isn't exactly helping him heal."

Katie chuckled. "Weird to think they're such close relations. Malfoy always was a little snot, particularly to Harry."

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, but he's not half bad now. We've had tea a few times—we were both going to start apprenticeships before the plague, and he wanted to mend some pretty broken bridges from school—but Harry still sees him as his childhood tormenter."

"You don't?"

She shook her head. "He was a little twat-sicle, sure, but kids are stupid and mean. I'm not going to hold what he said at twelve against him at eighteen. These last two years have been really hard for him, and he's made mistakes, but he seems genuinely remorseful."

Katie nodded. "And his dad?"

"Less remorseful, more… political? Lucius knows the wizarding world has no place for blood purity bullshit, at least not anymore. He has some points about cultural differences regarding Muggle-borns that I don't necessarily disagree with, but his concerns revolve more around assimilation than annihilation. He's harmless."

"Lucius Malfoy. Harmless."

Well, he is now, thought Hermione. The DoM made sure of that when they hired him.

Katie looked at Becca. "And you're headed home for the night?"

Becca nodded. "I'll take the Knight's Bus to get to my parents. Ernie offered me a place at Brockloch, but we weren't terribly close in school and I'm worried if I take him up on it… well, honestly, I'm worried he'll have expectations." She blushed again.

"Fuck that." Katie said. She paused and looked thoughtful. "Look, I have an extra room in my flat."

Angelina's room, Hermione thought.

"It's not much, but it's a space where you can go away from your parents and your partners. If you want it…"

Katie never got to finish her offer, as Becca was around the table in a flash to hug her.

"Do you mean it? I promise not to be a bother. You'll barely even notice I'm there."

Katie chuckled. "Don't say that. Who will commiserate with me when my Weasley drive me batty?"

Becca laughed, and then looked thoughtful. "What will I tell my parents."

"We can say I'm helping you study for NEWTs; I can, actually, if you want. In fact, why don't I head back to your parents with you tonight and talk to them a bit so they feel more comfortable? Maybe we could move you over this weekend?"

Becca nodded.

"C'mon," Katie said to Becca as she polished off the last of her butterbeer. "Let's head back to my place first so you can scope out the digs, and we'll make a plan for talking to your parents before it gets too late."

"I'm at Grimmauld Place if either of you need anything," said Hermione. "Seriously."

"And I'm still above Quality Quidditch if you need some time away from there," said Katie. "Plus, now that Becca will be around, we'll have to institute some sort of girls' night. Meetings of the Mopey Mothers or something."

"The Unwilling Uteri," laughed Hermione.

"The Belligerent Birthers," smiled Becca.

"I like it," said Katie. She frowned. "Although it looks like wine is off the party menu for, like, ever."


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: There's a brief discussion of miscarriage in this chapter, including late-term miscarriage, as it relates to the plague and resultant infertility in some witches. If this is a trigger for you, I highly suggest skipping the first and second section of this chapter._

 _A few people have commented on the pairings, and let me just say that it's still being worked out. I know FOR SURE at least one romantic paring for Hermione, one for not Hermione, and one character who will end up single. In my brain, I envision Hermione ending up with at least two wizards, but I'm still processing what that will look like in terms of the dynamic between the men. I also have many plans for the characters outside of our primary procreation group._

 _Speak of, many of you have bemoaned the lack of Severus's including in Hermione's group. I love me some Snamione, but it won't work for this story. But I haven't forgotten our tall, dark, and handsome Potioneer—I have plans for him too. And maybe I'll work some Snamione into the next multi-chapter piece I write._

 _Finally, ggROGANgg asked about potential time jumps: yes, there will be many. Right now I'm averaging about a half week of story-time per chapter, and if that were the case this would be one long-ass fic before any of the kids even came about. But these early chapters need the space for world- and character-building before I can start moving significantly forward in time (thus the importance of the date at the beginning of each scene—this will matter more when those time jumps start happening)._

 _PS - I just discovered LeadVonE's 'Dodging Prisons and Stealing Witches - Revenge is Best Served Raw'. It's incredible timey-wimey-AU-twin-Harry-w/-a-harem-ness and if that appeals to you, go check it out RIGHT NOW (or, preferably, after you read and comment on this chapter)!_

* * *

 _November 26th, 1998  
_ _Daily Prophet_

 _PLAGUE INOCULATION DISCOVERED!_

 _A return to Britain for citizens abroad?_

 _by Andy Smudgley_

 _The Ministry has announced the discovery of an inoculation to prevent to the plague that ravaged the country last month._

 _"This vaccination is the result of around-the-clock work since late October," said Percy Weasley, Assistant to the Senior Undersecretary for the Minister of Magic. "We only regret that it was too late to save those affected by the plague."_

 _According to the Ministry, the vaccination potion targets what Muggles call "receptors" in our bodies, which allow the plague to infect and spread. According to the DoM, the potion "tricks" our bodies into thinking we're already infected, rendering the actual plague inert._

 _"This is the first step in eradicating the Pure-blood Plague from our world," said a Department of Mysteries representative. "The problem now will be finding an initial test subject for it."_

 _Because of the travel ban, no one is allowed into the country. However, the DoM cannot test the antidote without a pure-blood woman on whom it can be tested._

 _"We're at an impasse," said Mr. Weasley. "We can only hope either a brave woman overseas is willing to show the vaccination works or that other experiments prove more fruitful."_

 _One such experiment, in the final stages of testing, is an antidote targeting unborn children. This antidote focuses on inhibiting the spread of the active disease to the baby during pregnancy._

 _"It's a slightly different process," said the DoM representative. "The potion must prevent the spread of the plague to a mother's womb without interfering with the baby's development, both physical and magical. We are very close to developing this potion, and hope to have the all-clear for prospective parents by the end of the year."_

 _This is happy news for parents-to-be, as well as wizarding Britain in general. Of all the casualties of the plague, the loss of unborn children, both from mothers who died or those who became infertile, was a great shock to our community. Since late October, two children have been born in the magical community; only four other witches are expected to give birth within the next eight months. Testing has revealed all of these children to be male._

 _The Ministry has advised women to put off pregnancy until the completion of the antidote, for fear pregnancies with female children could lead to miscarriage._

 _Once the antidote for expectant mothers is complete, it will be made available free-of-charge to fertile witches through St. Mungo's._

* * *

 _Department of Mysteries—Ministry of Magic_

"How many women lost their babies?" Hermione asked.

Franklin looked up. He had been consulting with Severus, who was working on the final testing for the antidote for unborn children.

"All of the pregnant women who died lost their babies, as did any pregnant woman who were rendered infertile."

Hermione grimaced at that. "I can't imagine."

"At least one woman is still in St. Mungo's. Because the plague made her infertile, she miscarried at six months. She spends her days singing to her lost baby in the Janus Thickey Ward now." He added some notes to the parchment in front of him. "The women who were pregnant and are still fertile mostly kept their children; there were two who miscarried who were both pregnant with girls."

Hermione exhaled slowly. "Those poor women."

"Of course, this is all self-reported. There could be other cases where the pregnancy was so early the miscarriage was mistaken for late menses, or women who convalesced at home rather than coming to the hospital." Franklin finished his notes. "Shall we check in with Severus?"

Her former professor was bent over a cauldron, slowly stirring counter-clockwise.

"Severus," Hermione said, by way of greeting.

"I have unfortunate news for you, Hermione," he responded, still staring at the liquid.

She cocked her head, but did not say anything. He looked up, smirking.

"It works."

* * *

 _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

"Theoretically."

"Yes, theoretically. All testing points to it working. But we won't know for sure until someone take it and gets pregnant."

Hermione stared at the liquid in her glass as she swirled it.

"You?"

She raised her glass. "Yu-up."

Sirius shook his head. "I'm sorry, Kitten."

She smiled. "It's OK. It's fine. Really. I'll be fine. It's just a lot, you know? But it will be fine."

Sirius reached out, holding her hand around the glass to stop the swirling motion. "You seem like you're trying to convince yourself more than me."

Tears started to well in her eyes. She forced them back. She breathed deeply to keep them at bay. When she felt in control, she looked at her companion. "Why don't you think you'll be a good father?"

He blinked. "Hell of a topic change, Kitten."

"You said when this all first dropped that you wouldn't be a good father. I want to know why."

Sirius looked pensive. "I'm not very good at… well, I'm not a good role model. I drink too much and smoke too much and don't give a fuck what people think about me. I've got a foul mouth and a penchant for saying inappropriate things. Any child of mine will be a right menace."

Hermione smiled. "I think any child of a Marauder would be a right menace. Merlin knows Harry was one."

He laughed. "You're right about that. Prongslet was a magnet for trouble."

She stared at their hands, hers holding her glass, his holding her hand. She whispered—so quietly he almost didn't hear—"I'm scared I'll be a terrible mother."

The tears came unbidden.

"Oh Kitten." He came around to her, and she buried her head in his shoulder and cried. "Why on earth would you think that?"

She sniffled. "Have you met me? I'm the most uptight, nervous wreck of a person there is! What if I'm a helicopter parent?"

"A what?"

"Muggle term. It means a parent who hovers, who never allows their kid to do anything for themselves. I'm scared I'll be too overbearing as a mother, that I'll smother my children until they hate me."

Sirius rubbed her back as she talked. "Kitten, you are who you are. Sure, you held Harry and Ron's hands all through school, but they came out just fine. All you need to be a great mother is a lot of love and a little common sense—and you've got both those things in spades." He hugged her close. "You're going to be a fantastic mum. I promise."

She sniffled as the tears subsided. "Really?"

Sirius nodded. "A great failing of mine is that I'm perpetually right. You'll just have to take my word for it." She smiled. "There now, all better?"

She nodded and pulled back from him a bit. "Can I ask you to do something for me?"

"Anything for you, Kitten."

"Will you listen to yourself and take your own words to heart?"

He furrowed his eyebrows at her.

"Sirius, you have such a big heart. I see it everyday in how you treat Teddy and Harry. In how you talk about Remus and Harry's mum and dad. You have more than enough love to make up for what you lack in common sense." She grinned at him. "If you say I'm going to be a good mum, and I have to believe you, then you have to listen when I say you'll be a great dad."

He sighed. "Kitten…"

"You said you'd do anything. This is what I want."

The muscles in his neck tightened, but he nodded. She hugged him again.

"I'm scared of being a mum. I'm only nineteen."

"Kitten, you're the oldest nineteen-year-old I've ever met."

"I'm scared of leaving Grimmauld. I've just finally started to feel safe again, like I don't have to look over my shoulder."

Sirius froze at that. He'd forgotten that Hermione getting pregnant meant she'd be moving to Malfoy Manor. "Shit. How soon?"

"Lucius wants me at the Manor as soon a pregnancy is confirmed."

"At the earliest?"

"Two months."

* * *

 _November 27th, 1998  
_ _Greengrass Place_

"I'm so glad you could make it Ms. Granger." Daphne smiled warmly as a small house-elf took Hermione's traveling cloak.

"Hermione, please. Thank you for inviting me."

"Then you must call me Daphne. Come, we're having tea in the parlor."

Daphne took Hermione's arm in her own and led her down a bright hallway. The house was large—not as large as Malfoy Manor, but definitely bigger than Grimmauld. It was a short walk to the bright parlor, where Daphne seated Hermione on the sofa next to her while another elf popped in with the tea service. Daphne gestured to the tea service.

"A little lemon, please."

"I wanted to apologize in person for intruding on your time at Malfoy Manor," said Daphne as she poured Hermione's tea. "It was rather rude of me."

"It's not a problem," said Hermione as she took the cup from the lovely blonde woman who she assumed would soon be a mother to her future children. She was dressed in elegant, understated robes-clothes that screamed money simply by the quality of material and fit. She wore a delicate pearl necklace, and Hermione remarked at how refined the woman was. A perfect companion for Draco. "After all, we're all going to need to get along. In fact, it's probably best if we get accustomed to spending time together as well."

Daphne looked slightly confused, but generally pleased. "I'd like that. I know Draco speaks highly of you and, well, my social circle is somewhat…" Daphne's voice caught, and Hermione knew she was thinking of all the family and friends she'd lost.

Hermione put a hand on her arm. "I understand. I'd really like us to be friends."

The blonde smiled back. "I'd like that as well." She started on her own cup. "It's been rather hard these last few weeks. Astoria and I were very close, and with Pansy gone and Millie out of the country…"

Millicent Bulstrode, thought Hermione. I completely forgot about her.

"I didn't realize she wasn't in Britain," said Hermione.

Daphne nodded. "After last year—you know she is a half-blood, so being around the Carrows wasn't easy— she took some time to visit her family in Germany. She was going to come back after Yule. Her parents were looking to find her a match, since Vince died."

Hermione nodded. She hadn't particularly liked Vincent Crabbe, what with him trying to kill her and her best friends, but death by fiendfyre was not something she'd wish on anyone—except maybe Voldemort.

"It's been terribly lonely, without them. And I love my father, but he's so busy, as I'm sure you know."

"Of course. But I imagine Draco is quite the comfort."

Daphne furrowed her brow again. "Of course. Draco is a good man. I appreciate everything he's done for me."

Hermione smiled. "He is a good man. You're very lucky."

"What do you mean?"

Hermione blushed a bit. "I only mean… well, I just think he's a good man and will make you very happy. I hope he does. Our world deserves a little happiness."

Daphne put down her teacup. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

The blush deepened. "Aren't you two… together?"

Daphne's eyes went wide. Then she laughed. Not the lady-like laugh Hermione would have expected, but a full-bellied laugh that echoed down the halls.

"I'm sorry," Daphne finally got out. "Draco and I are absolute _not_ together. What ever gave you that idea?"

Hermione frowned. "When I came over to the Manor…"

"… I was hugging him," finished Daphne. "Yes, I can see how that would have looked. Hermione, I had just received a letter from Blaise Zabini breaking off our betrothal; he told me that because I couldn't have children, I wouldn't be much use as a wife. I was devastated."

Hermione looked aghast.

"He was in Italy with his mother when the plague broke, and he's already in negotiations with a witch there to be married. I quite liked him and was hopeful for a marriage that would lead to love. Obviously, that regard was not reciprocated. Draco _was_ comforting me, but we are just friends. We always have been. In fact, when our parents tried to betroth us we threw such a fit that they contracted Astoria to him instead. Marrying Draco would have been like marrying my brother." She shuddered a bit.

Hermione smiled. "I know how you feel. Harry is in my procreation group and, well…"

Daphne smiled. "I always wondered why you two weren't an item in school."

Hermione shrugged. "The same reason you and Draco aren't getting married, I guess." She paused, remembering the conversation she overhead Sunday. "Didn't you have plans to see each other today?"

Daphne nodded. "He came over earlier today to help go through the betrothal contract to Blaise and draft a letter for the return of my dowry. I could have done it on my own, but… I'm still upset and bloody angry about the situation. It would be one thing if it was just a problem of geographic distance, but to throw my infertility in my face…" Daphne started getting teary-eyed again. "Look at me, all blithering away. Some Slytherin."

Hermione laughed. "Well, I'm the most logical, least recklessly-emotional Gryffindor you'll meet. We're quite the pair."

Daphne looked thoughtful. "Hermione, you said we needed to get along—that you wanted to be my friend so we'd get along. Are you only here because you thought Draco and I were an item?"

Hermione had the grace to look a little ashamed. "I was, because I thought you were. And I was a bit bitter at you because the night before Draco had asked me… well, not quite on a date."

Daphne's eyes went wide. "That's why he was in such a mood on Sunday! I thought it was just meeting with Potter—he didn't want to talk about it at all when I asked!" She paused. "You turned him down." It wasn't a question.

"I answered him with the answer I've been giving everyone since Ron and I split. I don't have time to date. And that's more true now than it was when I started making that my automatic response. But it wasn't the right thing to say."

"Because you didn't mean it, or because it wasn't what Draco wanted to hear?"

"Because he's right—we do need to spend time alone together if we're going to have children together. It's all just very complicated, and I responded with what was familiar and easy."

Daphne nodded. "You should tell him that. Maybe he'll feel less rejected."

Hermione nodded. Then she took Daphne's hand. "I would still like to be your friend, even if you're not marrying the father of my first child."

Daphne laughed at that. "What has our world come to?"


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: I've almost finished the foundation of this story, which means pairings and movement (including time jumps) should start picking up soon. Keep any eye out for the next chapter, in which I make my first official foray into writing sexiness of a stripe. EEP!_

 _On another note, I'm only about two chapters ahead for now. I'm going to try to get ahead again so I can keep up with a Friday & Sunday/Monday update schedule, but I may have to pull back to once-a-week if I keep running into writing walls. Fingers cross my muse gets her rear in gear. xx_

* * *

 _November 29th, 1998  
_ _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

Hermione's to-do list wasn't getting any shorter. She'd had an owl from Minerva, who said she would send out some inquiries but was quite swamped with trying to get Hogwarts back on track. So her Mastery had effectively been put on hold, until something else came up. The Ministry had hired the major administrators for the Procreation Department, and Hermione was scheduled to meet with them later in the week to go over broad goals for the department. She was mentally drafting bullet points in her head when Harry came downstairs with Teddy in tow.

"Hi Mione," the dark haired boy said quietly, shifting the small child in his arms.

"Hi Harry."

Things had been strained between the two since the meeting the week before. Harry still hadn't returned to work, and was spending most of the time in his room. Ron had come by once—she'd been at the DoM with Severus—and taken Harry out for a pint. That both her friends were basically avoiding her didn't sit well with the curly-haired witch, but she had too much on her plate to deal with them.

Teddy grinned brightly when he saw her and held out his arms. He smacked his lips together, making "mm" sounds.

"That's right Teddy, Hermione," she cooed at the infant as she pulled him from Harry's arms. "Did he just get up?"

He nodded. "I went in to check on him and the little man was laying there babbling away. He must get his talkativeness from Tonks. Remus was always so quiet." She put Teddy in his high chair and went to get a bottle. "Where's Sirius?" Harry asked.

"In here, pup!" called the older man from the other room. He walked into the kitchen and grinned at the baby in Hermione's arms. "Quite the nap there, cub."

"Buh!" cooed Teddy at the older man. He reached out and grabbed at Hermione's curls. She squeaked and gently pulled his fingers from her hair. "If this is my foreseeable future, maybe I should chop it all off…"

Sirius and Harry just blinked at her. "Kitten without curls?" the older man finally asked. "Sacrilege."

She laughed and set Teddy in his chair. "I can feed him now, but then one of you will need to watch him. I'm having dinner with Lucius and Draco tonight."

Harry scowled. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"You better enjoy my help with Teddy while you can. I could be moving to the Manor in as little as two months, Harry. I'll still be around, but it definitely won't be as much as now. And you're going to have to go back to work eventually."

"I still can't believe you're considering moving there." She could hear the disdain his voice, even if she was steadfastly avoiding his gaze. She pulled a puree from the ice box.

"I'm not considering anything, Harry. It's a done deal. I'll be staying there until the child is born and then as long as necessary. And even when I'm not staying there, my child will be there." She paused and looked thoughtful. "We'll eventually have to figure out childcare… I wonder how swamped Molly will be…"

Another thing to add to her to do list.

"Hermione, you were tortured there…"

"I didn't forget that Harry. I see a reminder of that every day." She raised her left arm, where the _Mudblood_ scar they all knew she had was covered by her jumper, and shook it at him. "But Bellatrix is dead, Voldemort is dead, and the war is over. I know Lucius and Draco, and I trust they will do what they can to make the Manor hospitable for me. Family means the world to them, and for better or for worse, I'm now family."

She looked at him. "I don't need the Chosen One to save me, Harry." Her voice dropped low. "I need my best friend to support me."

Harry sighed and dropped his shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Mione. I just hate the stupid ferret and his stupid dad and… well, I feel like I hate just about everything right now."

She gave him a small smile. "I know, Harry. I know."

"Buh! Buh!" Teddy slammed his hands on his high chair, demanding his puree.

"Budge over, Kitten. I've got this," said Sirius, taking the spoon and puree from her. "You two go chat and make peace before you head over to Malfoys', yeah?"

Harry and Hermione walked to the parlor. He sat first, on the sofa, and she sat next to him—not as close as she normally would have, but so distant as to make a statement.

"Is this really about Draco?" Hermione was done tiptoeing, and she really did need to get ready for dinner soon. "Because it feels bigger than that."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe? I'm worried for you, Mione." He ran his fingers through his hair, which was increasingly shaggy from neglect. "This whole situation is… I don't know."

Hermione nodded. "I know, it's insane. Sometimes I have to convince myself this isn't a crazy dream—or nightmare. But Harry?" She looked at him. "You haven't really been acting like you're worried about a friend."

He looked at his lap. "I know."

Hermione scooted closer and put a hand on his knee. "I think you're heartbroken, Harry. And you haven't really had time to process it because all of a sudden I'm dumped in your proverbial lap and you're expected to have kids with me. And then the Malfoys are dragged in, which I know is even worse for you. And there are all of these complications and weird dynamics to figure out and, yes, we'll do that. But Harry?"

He looked up at her.

"You don't have to figure that all out now."

He shrugged. "I know. I do. It just feels like everything is sitting on my shoulders."

"It's not."

He nodded.

"No, really Harry. This is not Voldemort. There is no prophecy. You are one wizard bound up in a shitty situation, just like a bunch of other wizards. You are one wizard who, like many, lost the love of his life and is now expected to have kids with a woman not of your choice. For the first time, you are not alone in this situation." She paused. "Will you do me a favor?"

"Depends on what it is. Does it involve research?" He gave her a small smile.

She grinned back. "In a way. Will you visit with Neville? And will the two of you attend one support group?"

Harry frowned. "Mione…"

"I know you're hesitant. But if anything, Harry, you need to realize that this, for once, isn't about you. Neville lost Hannah. Sweet, kind Neville lost a woman as sweet and kind as he is. He loved her like you loved Ginny. Fred lost Angelina. Bill lost Fleur. You're all hurting in ways that I can't understand. That Ron can't understand."

Hermione watched her friend's bright green eyes grow glassy with tears. "I miss her." He whispered.

Hermione threw her arms around him as he cried in her shoulder. She ran her hand over his hair near the back of his neck and moved to his shoulders, rubbing as he softly sobbed. "I know Harry. I know you do. You need someone to talk to, and I will always be here for that—for you. But I think you should also talk to others who have lost. You aren't alone."

She felt him nod.

"And when you're ready—not now, but when you're ready—I need you to make peace with the Malfoys."

He stiffened.

"Right now you need someone to blame. Someone you can look to and say, 'This is your fault.' And Draco, particularly, is an easy target for that, for a number of reasons. But it's not his fault, Harry. He's lost people too. And I know you're not ready for it yet, but you will be."

He pulled back from her. "I can't promise that."

She put her hands to his wet cheeks. "I know. But I have faith in you."

* * *

 _Malfoy Manor_

Lucius met her at the Floo, looking perfectly put together, as usual. She wore a grey cashmere sweater dress and pearls—simple, but elegant. She was tired of feeling inadequate when it came to the Malfoys. She was going to be the mother of their children, and tonight she was dressing the part of an aristocrat.

"You look lovely tonight, Hermione," said Lucius as he took her arm.

"Thank you, Lucius."

"How are you? Have you heard from Minerva?"

Hermione nodded. "She's managed to coax a number of people to Hogwarts in order to re-open this spring, with a modified curriculum to account for the decrease in enrollment. Bill Weasley will be teaching two Ancient Runes classes—an introductory course for 3rd and 4th years and an intensive course for students preparing for OWLs—as the travel ban has limited the amount of curse-breaking cases he can take for Gringotts." She reddened. "Yuri Blishen has agreed to teach the intensive course for NEWT students for the length of my Mastery study, which he's agreed to supervise."

Lucius blinked. "Yuri Blishen?"

She nodded.

"That's quite the coup, for both you and Minerva."

"I know. She'd like me to take over Bill's teaching duties once the travel ban is lifted, but we're not sure when that will be and we have no idea how my pregnancies will effect a potential teaching position. I told her until we can resolve those concerns, I couldn't commit to anything."

Lucius nodded. When they entered the parlor, Hermione saw Draco standing, looking at the fire, with a glass of firewhisky in his hand. Like Lucius, he wore full dress robes.

"May I get you a drink?" Lucius asked Hermione.

She nodded. "A glass of wine would be lovely."

"Enjoying it while you can?" he asked, as he poured their drinks.

She smiled. "Something like that."

Draco turned to her. "Good evening, Hermione."

She sighed internally. He was still perfectly formal. She wondered if he'd spoken with Daphne since Friday. "Hello, Draco."

"You'll want to be careful of your promises to Minerva," Lucius said as he handed her a crystal wineglass. "She may think she's tapped a new Ancient Runes teacher. If that's what you want, fine, but if you want to leave your options open in terms of a career, you'll need to be clear about that."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "McGonagall has asked you to teach Runes?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not immediately, no. She's requested I leave that option open in the future, as my mentor will be teaching there."

"I see."

Lucius narrowed his eyes at Draco. "Perhaps you should let Hermione know she's not alone in that regard."

Draco took a sip of his drink, then looked at Hermione. "McGonagall lost her new Potions teacher to the plague. She all but begged Severus to return. His agreement was contingent on my teaching First through Third years, which would leave him three classes: two OWLs-intensive and one NEWT-intensive."

Hermione smiled at him. "That's wonderful, Draco."

He shrugged. "It's only for the spring. I told her I couldn't commit to the following year one way or another yet."

Hermione nodded. "We'll need to figure that out, but not tonight."

He nodded once, and looked back at the fire.

A house elf popped in. "Dinner is ready."

Lucius once again offered Hermione his arm, which she took. Draco followed.

Once they were all seated, Hermione looked at Draco. "Do you want to teach?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't given it much thought. Typically Malfoys achieve a Mastery in whatever they wish and then spend a few years learning to manage the family estate. Father's employment by the Ministry is… atypical."

"But not unwelcome," interjected Lucius. "I find my work at the Department of Mysteries to be quite intriguing."

"And I imagine they quite benefit from your expertise?" asked Hermione with a glint in her eye.

Lucius nodded. "They don't advertise it, but Unspeakables work in shades of grey. They are inherently interested in magical theory, which bears on both light and dark magic. I can bring my knowledge to the table without being vilified for it."

Hermione nodded. Even with the plea bargain, she didn't imagine many would appreciate Lucius's background in the Dark Arts. If anyone did, it would be the DoM.

She turned back to Draco. "I'm unsure as well. I enjoyed my time as a prefect and working with younger students, and Merlin knows I got Harry and Ron through most of our classes, but tutoring and teaching are wildly different things. I imagine I'll assist Master Blishen with his classes and get a feel for the profession."

" _Yuri_ Blishen?" Draco raised his eyebrows. She nodded. "Wow. Congratulations."

She smiled. "Having the foremost Potions Master in Britain supervise your Mastery is no small feat."

He shrugged. "He wouldn't have agreed if I couldn't do the work, but it doesn't hurt that he's my godfather."

"Has he told you of his match?"

Draco shook his head. She looked at Lucius, who returned her stare. "He has."

"And?"

"He said she was a sweet girl who, last he had seen her, had been sitting in his sixth year Defense class quiet as a door mouse. He then proceeded to get quite drunk on very old firewhisky."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course he did. She's quite a lovely girl, you know, even if she is young. It's not like you have much room to talk." She smiled at him, and then looked thoughtful. "I understand the MacMillans have been a bit heavy-handed when it comes to their group dynamic. Would it be possible to have Severus, Theo, and Becca over at some point? I think she could benefit from time with them away from the MacMillans, and I don't think Severus is going to initiate any social time beyond what is absolutely necessary."

Draco nodded. "That's a good idea. I haven't spoken with Theo except to hear some choice words regarding the MacMillans. I didn't even know Severus was in the group."

"Franklin is perfectly lovely," Hermione countered. She didn't want the kind Healer being lumped in with his less tactful family members.

Draco shrugged.

After a momentary silence, Lucius put down his spoon. "Severus tells me the antidote is ready."

Hermione nodded. "It is." She glanced at Draco, who steadfastly avoided her gaze.

Lucius narrowed his eyes at his son, and then rolled them. "And when can I expect my first grandchild?"

"If all goes according to plan, late September," said Hermione. "I'll be ready to start the fertility potions the weekend before Yule this year."

Lucius nodded. "The solstice would be an auspicious date on which to conceive."

Draco choked and looked at his father. "Must we really discuss this at dinner?"

"As it stands, Draco, you don't seem quite ready to discuss it at all. I thought I would go ahead and do the hard work of communicating with the mother of your children for you."

The two men took their measure of each other, and Hermione did her best to not sink into her chair.

"I'm quite capable of speaking with Hermione about this, Father." His face held a sneer Hermione hadn't seen since their school days.

"Quite," said Lucius. He folded his napkin. "I find I am feeling rather unwell. I'm sorry to leave so early, but I really must retire. Draco, please make sure to show Hermione the wing that is being prepared for her before she leaves." He stood and gave Hermione a small bow. "My apologies Hermione. I will see you next week."

He left the room before she could respond.

She turned to Draco. "Is he upset?"

The blond shook his head. "No. He's giving us space to talk."

She nodded. "That seems reasonable. It's been a while since it was just the two of us."

He nodded once and focused on his dinner.

Prat, thought Hermione. He wasn't going to make any effort here.

"I had tea with Daphne Greengrass on Friday," she said before she took a sip of wine. He didn't look up, but she saw his hand briefly pause before he took another bite.

"Did you?"

"Mmm," she hummed. "We had a lovely conversation. I quite like her. We've made plans to go shopping for our remaining Yule gifts together."

He nodded. There was a brief silence, during which Hermione contemplated which direction she should take the conversation. She laid out all the possible ways each new topic could go, planning three steps in advance, working out all the possible responses he might have. She felt very Slytherin.

And then she remembered she was a Gryffindor.

"Are you angry with me, Draco?"

He set down his knife and fork, breathed deeply, and looked at her. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you've treated me differently since last Friday. You were downright cold when I was here for dinner last week, and you haven't owled me for our weekly tea."

"I didn't realize our teas were a standing appointment."

"Stop obfuscating. You know damn well what I mean. Are you angry that I didn't agree to a date with you?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I am a little upset you dismissed it so quickly. I'm sorry that the idea is so abhorrent to you…"

"It's not."

"Excuse me?"

"It's not. I have been giving that same response to every request for a date I've received since June. At this point, it's my standard response. You caught me quite off guard, you know."

He cocked his head at her and smiled just a bit. "So you want to take it back?"

"No."

He furrowed his brow. "I don't understand."

She huffed. "I'm not ready to date anyone, Draco. My life has been turned upside down, and I have to figure a lot out. Adding a romantic partner to that… I'm not sure I'm in a space to think clearly about such things. But I do think you were right to ask me, in a way. I requested that you make my first experience with sex pleasant, and then cut off a venue for doing so."

He nodded. "So what do you suggest?"

"I'd like to spend time together. Not a date, but not as friends. Is there a word for a space between those? Where we explore intimacy without expectations of a relationship?"

She knew she would be having this conversation tonight, and she had prepared for a variety of reactions. She hadn't prepared for him to laugh at her.

"What?"

"Merlin Hermione, you are quite the ingénue, aren't you?"

She frowned.

"There word you're looking for is fuck-buddies."


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Question time! Aquelana has asked "If there is now an antidote, why do there still have to be forced marriages?"_

 _Babies, not marriages :)_ _The Procreation Law is all about repopulation. Even with the antidote, there is a dearth of fertile witches who will create magical children. With the lack of magical children, wizarding Britain will effectively cease to exist. The antidote does not render infertile witches fertile; rather, it will save those witches not effected by the plague and prevent plague-related infertility and death from being passed on to future female children. Thus, the enforcement of procreation that would otherwise happen at a much reduced pace, plus the saving of genetic material from wizards who might not otherwise reproduce, like Severus._

 _I hope that was a helpful explanation!_

 _Now, I'm going to be frank: I've never written sexy scenes. I'm much better with gesturing toward sex without ever explicitly describing it. I'm working on that. And while there isn't sex in this chapter, there is some physical intimacy that took me a while to feel comfortable writing. So I'd like your feedback on the scene: Is it too clinical? To brief? (In description, not in action—we're building up to the sex, people!) I know this is going to be one of my struggles moving forward with this story, so your thoughts are appreciated! xx_

* * *

 _December 2nd, 1998  
_ _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

"Are you ready for your not-date?" asked Sirius.

Hermione hadn't been pleased with the notion of becoming Draco's fuck-buddy and had been quite clear about her distaste for the term, especially since they were emphatically _not_ having sex—at least not yet. After a long discussion, they agreed to not label what they were doing, though they were generally on the same page.

"This is about your comfort, Hermione," Draco told her before she left Malfoy Manor. "We'll hang out. We'll talk. We might kiss and explore a bit. But I have no expectations of you."

Hermione looked at Sirius and smiled. "I am. What are your plans for the evening?"

Hermione was shocked when Sirius blushed slightly.

"A very smart witch I know recently recommended to a friend that he attend one of the support groups for the Procreation Act. I received notice for one relevant to me tonight. I thought I might drop in, see how it goes."

She smiled broadly at him. "I think that's great, Sirius. Is Harry watching Teddy?"

He nodded. "I think they're headed to the Burrow to see Ron. I heard something about a treacle tart."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's one way to get Harry out of the house." She walked to Sirius and threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. "I think the support group is a great idea. You need to get out of Grimmauld, and I don't mean to a pub with Fred and George."

He returned her hug, leaning down and breathing deep. Apples and cinnamon. She'd made Teddy a batch of applesauce earlier, but she always smelled of cinnamon. A hint of rosemary, from her shampoo. Ink and parchment.

On instinct more than anything, he nuzzled her.

She smiled into him and squeezed. "I hope you have a good time. Maybe meet another self-professed bachelor who's been roped into this too. You can commiserate over the terrible women you've been matched with."

He pulled back and looked hard at her. "Don't you dare say that, Kitten. You are a damn fine woman, and if anyone tells you otherwise you send them to me." He grinned. "Between your brains and my penchant for mischief, think our kids will send McGonagall into retirement?"

She laughed. "Probably. We can only hope they inherit your hair."

His dark eyes twinkled at her, and gently pulled at a curl near her face. "Hey now, I'm quite fond of this." He breathed her in once more and then stepped back. "You better get going. You wouldn't want to be late for your not-date."

She twirled for him. Her hair was loose, and she wore a royal blue wool jumper and fitted dark brown slacks. "It's my very first not-date. How do I look."

He took her in and admonished himself for the direction his mind started to wander. He smiled gently. "Beautiful."

* * *

 _Malfoy Manor_

"I've always known that I'd be a father young," Draco said before popping a green grape in his mouth. Their dinner had been light, and they were enjoy afters of fresh fruit and cheese. "I think it's the prospect of having more than one son that is taking some getting used to."

They sat at a table in what would eventually be her sitting room. The walls were still white, the furniture sparse. Aside from the two-person dining set, the room had a small bookshelf, a deep blue velvet chaise, and a thick ivory rug. She already had a mental list of changes she wanted to make.

"You didn't want more than one child?" asked Hermione. She swirled her red wine and took a sip.

"It's never been a question of wanting one. Malfoys have had one child—a son—for as long as I can remember. There's me. My father. His father. His father. And so on."

"I'm surprised," said Hermione. "I thought the favorite phrase of patriarchal pure-bloods was 'an heir and a spare.'"

Draco chuckled. "For some. But Malfoys are ambitious sons of bitches, and a second son might try and off the first for inheritance rights."

Hermione made a moue of distaste. "That's awful."

"True. It's also just as likely that marrying only pure-blood women, and the subsequent inbreeding, led to fertility problems, which may be the _actual_ reason for only children in our family. I know you said as much to Father in a meeting one time." His smirk turned to something more thoughtful. "I do know my mother wanted more children, but she nearly died giving birth to me so she and Father never risked it."

Hermione reached out and laid her right hand over Draco's left. "Would you have liked a sibling?"

He looked at her hand, and rubbed her thumb with his. "I think so. A little sister, maybe. But I was pretty spoiled, and I'm not sure I would've acclimated well to sharing."

Hermione smiled. "And how do you feel about sharing children?"

Draco breathed deep. "I… I'm not sure. You mean sharing with you?"

She nodded.

"You have to understand, Hermione, that pure-blood marriages are all about children. I could reconcile to not loving Astoria, at least initially, but that was with an eye toward an heir. Fatherhood is… its everything, Hermione. Malfoys live for their legacy. My first instinct is that my children are just that— _mine_ —and any challenge to that must be eliminated." Then he smirked at her. "And I think the only reason I'm not more upset about sharing the mother of my children with others is that I know you have this unwavering sense of decency and would never keep my children from me. It's against your goody-goody-Gryffindorness."

She smiled at him. "And if your children end up as goody-goody-Gryffindors?"

He scoffed. "No Malfoy has ever been sorted anywhere but Slytherin." He stood, his wine glass in one hand and her hand in the other. "Come sit with me."

She blushed, but followed him to the chaise. She sat close to him, slipping off her shoes and pulling her feet under her on the couch, and he pulled her hand onto his knee, still rubbing her thumb.

"When you think about children, what do you envision?" he asked her.

She closed her eyes and softly smiled. "A baby boy wrapped in a cream-colored swaddle, being held in his father's arms. A little girl in a floral dress, reading her favorite fairy tales to me. Opening new pajamas the night before Yule and birthday breakfasts with chocolate chip pancakes and crying on Platform 9 3/4 the first year they go to Hogwarts."

"Merlin, Granger, I didn't take you for such a sap." He nudged her in the shoulder, but there was kindness in his voice, so she let his jab slide.

"That's what I _thought_ ," she said, opening her eyes. "Of course, with ten children in my future, now I just see me in a house-dress with spread hips and even frizzier hair, completely burned out. I'm a cross between Molly Weasley and Roseanne.'"

Draco furrowed his brow. "Who?"

"Nevermind. Muggle reference." She shifted her feet further under her. "What about you? What do you see in your future?"

"Hmm… a lot of bushy hair."

"Hey!" She punched him lightly in the arm. "There are worse things."

"You're right," he said solemnly. "They could be insufferable know-it-alls."

She rolled her eyes. "You are just as swotty as I am, Mr. Potions Apprentice."

"Yes, but I can rein it in when necessary. You still bounce in your seat when you have an idea or an answer to a question, just like our first year."

She stuck out her tongue at him. "Children," she continued. "What do you think about when you think of children?"

"Training brooms. I've been looking forward to teaching my son to fly for as long as I could think about having a child."

"Or daughter."

"Hm?"

"You could have a daughter."

"Malfoys always have sons."

"Malfoys apparently never have more than one child. You will. One could be a daughter." She glanced up at him. "Not something you'd considered?"

No, it hadn't been. As he stared at the wall he could see her: a tiny girl with a head full of wild near-white girls, with a smattering of her mother's freckles on her father's pale skin. He could see her curled up on this very chaise, reading books almost as big as her to Hermione, and he could feel her tiny arms under his, hear her squeals of glee, as took her out flying.

He blinked.

"I hadn't planned on a girl."

"Planned?" asked Hermione.

He shook his head, more to shake the image of the tiny girl than anything. "I mean, I'd thought about a son. I even have a name and everything."

She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows, in the universal 'Well?' gesture.

"Scorpius."

"Scorpius?"

"It's a constellation name, like mine. He would take my name as his middle name, as I did for my father and he did for his. So: Scorpius Draco Malfoy."

Hermione laughed. "Only in the wizarding world. In the Muggle world, you'd be asking for him to be beaten up every day of primary."

Draco frowned. "Scorpius is a good name."

Hermione smiled. "It fits. I can see you with a son named Scorpius."

Draco wasn't sure if he should be insulted or not. He decided to say nothing.

"Plus, you could have another son, rather than a daughter. Although I am vehemently opposed to fratricide and will not tolerate it with my children, large inheritances be damned." She tried to look very serious.

"I concur," said Draco. Then he sighed as though he was being overly put-upon. "Since you'll be the mother, I guess the second son will have to be named Leo."

She smiled up at him brightly. "And you said no Gryffindors. I think you're getting soft on me, Draco."

He brought his right hand to her face, tracing the uptick at the corner of her mouth, and her eyes grew wider. He stared at her, with thoughts of a little curly-haired girl and a Gryffindor son, and his blue-grey eyes twinkled.

"Perhaps."

His thumb brushed up her cheek and she felt the air pull from her lungs. He cocked his head and looked intrigued, as if she was a puzzle for him to figure out, and she felt butterflies stir deep inside. Was it her that had him so fascinated, or her innocence? How much of this was real, and how much was he going through the motions for her benefit? Did that distinction really matter?

His thumb brushed up her cheek, and he leaned in.

His lips were soft, but his kiss was firm. When she'd kissed Ron so many months ago, he had been over-eager, and the whole experience had felt sloppy. This was the opposite; she felt Draco holding back, even as he cupped her cheek to keep her near. He smelled of bergamot and sandalwood, and she breathed deep when he pulled back minutes later.

His left hand had long migrated to her waist, and he tightened his grip there as he looked at her.

"OK?"

She nodded, afraid to open her mouth and promptly stick her foot in it. Or start babbling. She had a tendency to do both.

He smiled and leaned back in for more. He was an excellent kisser, she decided. It wasn't overly wet, and when his tongue went in search of hers it was as a firm question, rather than a forceful demand.

Her hands slid around his neck, brushing his nape as she drew him close. He slipped his left hand under the hem of her jumper and held it there, at her waist but on her bare skin.

She felt her whole body break out in gooseflesh, and she unconsciously shivered.

She felt him smile in the kiss, and he softly pulled away, drawing her to the crook of his neck. He hugged her tight, nearly pulling her onto her knees.

She laughed at the awkwardness of her position. "Here," she said, lifting herself up and throwing her legs over his thighs. The position had her nearly sitting in his lap, though her bum was still on the chaise. "Better?"

"Mm," he hummed and nodded. He kissed her again, the faint taste of wine on his lips. He moved from her mouth to her neck, nuzzling and lightly kissing the spot where her neck met her jaw.

It wasn't the most intimate place she'd been touched, but the tenderness of the spot, combined with the sensation of his feather-light kisses ghosting across her skin, sent a wave of pleasure through her. The butterflies in her stomach moved to her chest, and she held onto Draco as if those same butterflies might take off with her body at any moment.

His left hand gently expanded and retracted on her waist, the lightness of his touch mirroring his kisses.

She could have stayed like that all night.

Perhaps ten minutes later, Draco whispered her name between his kisses. "Hermione?"

"Mm?" she responded.

"As much as I'm enjoying this, rushing something physical tonight would be antithetical to our goals, so I think we should stop…"

Still kissing him, she growled in disagreement.

"…but I'd like to see you again soon." He stopped tracing her waist to hold her firmly. "Please."

He pulled back, and she sighed at the loss of his lips on her neck. She huffed, but nodded.

"Soon."


	15. Chapter 15 - A Neville Interlude

_A/N: So, an early update this weekend, since I didn't update on Sunday/Monday. Speaking of, I'm hitting a wicked-busy period work-wise and will be scaling back posts to once-a-week for the foreseeable future._

 _Today, we take a break from our heroine, because man oh man did I need to write about Neville. This was kicking at me, and wouldn't let me continue Hermione's story until I got it out._

 _Thanks for reading! xx_

* * *

 _December 4th, 1998  
_ _Longbottom Hall_

His days bled together in one big mass of loneliness.

He would wake, wash, and eat breakfast. His mornings would be spent in the library. After lunch, he would work in the gardens. If he was particularly filthy or if, on the off chance, he had evening plans, he'd wash before dinner. He used to occasionally grab a pint with Dean and Seamus, but since the Procreation Act they'd only got together two or three times.

His two friends were withdrawing into each other, wondering what this new law would mean for them. Their romantic relationship was quite new and fragile, and now children were being mandated—with women, no less. The pair was quickly having to decide if they wanted to be active in their children's lives or not—both individually and as a couple. It was too much, and Neville didn't begrudge them their retreat to their tiny flat, away from this crazy world.

Now, he spent his evenings in the library, going over family documents. When he was with Hannah, he felt like he had all the time in the world to figure out his future. After all, Augusta Longbottom was a force of nature who would be around for direction and advice for years to come. He had wanted to spend as much time as possible with his sweet fiancée; he would figure out how to be Lord Longbottom soon enough.

And then the plague swept in, taking everything he held dear.

And now he was alone in this giant house with two house elves, a library, and a garden for company.

He thought about Flooing Hermione, seeing if she wanted to come visit, but given their lunch two weeks before he imagined she was quite busy—too busy to humor poor Neville. Hermione was an important woman with a lot to do and five men, including two Malfoys, to placate.

In that, he didn't envy her.

Although she would never want for company, and he was just a little jealous.

She was wanted. So very wanted.

He chose not to dwell on the notion of Hermione being not just wanted, but _wanted_ ; it lead down paths he wasn't quite prepared to tread.

He looked at the papers before him: chronicles of political alliances, policies his Gran had been in the process of lobbying for or against, account ledgers for all their vaults, both family and business-related.

He felt the beginnings of a headache right behind his eyes.

In what must have been an act of mercy sent by Merlin himself, the library Floo came to life.

"Nev?"

"Harry?"

"Hey mate, can I come through?"

"Sure." Moments later, a somewhat disheveled Harry Potter was standing in his library. He looked more put together than when Neville had last seen him at Grimmauld: black slacks, a checked button down shirt, and a grey jacket, all underneath a black traveling cloak. Muggle, but nice.

"You busy?"

Neville glanced at the papers on his desk. "Not at all."

Harry surveyed the library. "Well, it's not Hogwarts, but Hermione would get a kick out of this place."

Neville smiled at that. "She said as much when she visited. I'm under strict orders to send her a list of any rare texts we have that she might not be able to find elsewhere."

Harry smiled. "That's our girl."

Both wizards let the awkwardness of the statement hang in the air.

"What can I do for you, mate?" Neville finally asked.

Harry looked anywhere but his friend. "Ah, well. So. Here's the thing. Um. So there's a thing tonight, and Hermione thought I should go and, well, I thought maybe you might like to go too."

Harry wasn't normally so evasive. Nervous, yes, but not evasive. Neville narrowed his eyes a bit. "What kind of thing?"

Reddening somewhat, Harry shrugged. "A Procreation group support thing for blokes who lost partners to the plague."

Pictures flashed through Neville's mind: His Gran giving him his father's wand. His mother's candy wrappers at Christmas. Hannah conquering her Patronus in the DA. Hannah's smile after he first kissed her. Hannah congratulating him on accepting a Mastery with Sprout. Hannah coming undone underneath him when they made love.

Hannah, tears in her beautiful blue eyes, saying she would marry him.

Neville exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "I don't know if I can do that, Harry."

The dark-haired wizard sighed and nodded. "I know. I totally get it. It's the last thing I want to do. But I promised Hermione I'd go to one."

"Tonight?" asked Neville.

Harry looked at the tall wizard and smiled. "No, not necessarily. Maybe in a week or two."

Neville nodded. Hermione might not be happy, but this kind of thing couldn't be forced. Harry would deal with his grief when he could. He knew from experience such things came in waves. One minute he was in the gardens, planning out his Mastery project, and the next he was doubled over near the aconite dry heaving between sobs.

Waves of heartache, punctuated by increasingly long periods of tedious existence.

"Since your not busy, do you want to grab a pint at the Leaky?"

Dear Merlin yes.

"Let me grab a cloak."

A quick Floo trip later and the two wizards stepped out into the Leaky Cauldron. For a Friday night, it wasn't terribly crowded: a few blokes at the bar, two tables of families, and one table of two nice looking witches.

One of the witches had a mass of curly brown hair.

"Harry! Neville!"

Hermione waved the two men over to her table and Neville realized, with no small amount of surprise, that she was finishing dinner with Daphne Greengrass.

She gestured for the two wizards to sit. By virtue of their arrival, Neville took the seat next to Hermione while Harry sat next to Daphne. The girls had been sitting next to the fire, and both had red cheeks from the heat. Daphne wore what passed for casual dress robes for pure-blood circles, and Hermione was in fitted jeans and a black wool jumper.

"You boys remember Daphne Greengrass, right?" Hermione gestured to the tall blonde sitting across the table from her. "She and I spent the afternoon together."

"Of course. How do you do, Ms. Greengrass?" asked Neville, with all the polite formality he'd been taught.

"Daphne, please. I'm quite well, particularly now that Hermione has helped me finish my Yule shopping." The two girls grinned at each other.

"Then please, call me Neville." He looked at Hermione. "Does Flourish and Blotts have any books left?"

The curly-haired witch, mustering all her maturity and poise, stuck out her tongue at him. "That's what you ask when someone has been shopping for me! No, I feel quite content with my purchases."

Harry looked at Neville and grinned conspiratorially. "Mione's rubbish at keeping secrets; everyone will know their Yule gift in a week, mark my words."

Hermione wrinkled her nose at him. "Not this year," she said, putting two fingers to her lips and pretending to zip them together. "You'll both just have to wait until Yule to see what you got!"

Both? Did that mean she'd bought him a Yule gift?

They hadn't exchanged Yule gifts since first year.

But this year it made sense. He was part of her Procreation group, and of course Hermione would be thoughtful enough to buy all five of them a gift. She'd probably figure out a way to get something for his dad, even.

Shit. Now he'd have to buy her something. But what? Books were the obvious choice—even she joked about it—but they were an easy out, and he really didn't have any idea of what she didn't have.

Jewelry was out, for obvious reasons. Indicative of romance or familiarity, and while Hermione would be family it was simply too soon. After all, the last jewelry shopping he'd done was in his family vault for Hannah's ring.

Clothes? Candy? Pranks from Wheezes?

Neville, who had been lost in thought for quite some time, was jolted out of his thoughts by a laughing Daphne and a giggling Hermione. He focused on a red-faced, but smiling Harry.

"You didn't!" Daphne gasped between breaths.

Harry nodded. "It's true. For an hour second year, I was Greg Goyle. Draco thought we'd forgotten the password."

"What?" exclaimed Neville.

Harry looked at him. "It's how I saw the Slytherin Common Room. We were convinced Draco was the Heir of Slytherin, so we took Polyjuice and I turned into Goyle."

"Does he know?" asked Daphne.

"Goyle?" Harry shrugged. "Dunno. It's not like we're pals, and given that Ron turned into Crabbe I don't imagine it's likely to ever come up in polite conversation with him."

Daphne grew solemn at the mention of her housemate. "Poor Vince. Draco was smart enough to see through the pure-blood bullshit eventually, but I don't think Vince would have ever gotten there. He was a nice boy if you were his friend: thoughtful and loyal. He used to let me and Pansy use his cloak as a blanket if it got really cold during a Quidditch match."

She looked at the three Gryffindors. "I know if you weren't his friend he was vicious, and I know Seventh Year he tortured the shit out of just about everyone, but that doesn't erase my memories of him as a young boy." Neville saw in his eyes her refusal to apologize for having positive memories of Crabbe.

Neville mostly remembered Crabbe for the _Crucios_ that he'd suffered at Crabbe's wand the previous year. That Hannah had suffered.

Hermione cleared her throat, recognizing the awkwardness of the moment. "We should get going. We've been out all day, and I told Sirius I'd be back to watch Teddy tonight."

She leaned over and kissed Neville on the cheek.

As she moved around the table toward the Floo, she did the same to Harry.

"It was good to see you both," said Daphne, rising gracefully from her seat. She offered both wizards a small smile and then turned as was gone with Hermione.

The two wizards sipped their butterbeers in silence.

"Crabbe was a bastard, and I'm glad he's dead," said Neville finally.

Harry nodded in agreement. "Ginny told me about her Sixth Year."

"He was like me, before I got a new wand. No power. Near squib-level magic. Curses were something he could finally do well. The joy in his eyes when he would _Crucio_ another student was like the first time I saw my Patronus." He studied his glass. "It was really fucked up."

The silence descended once more, but it was amiable. For Neville, just being out in the world was enough.

"How are you?" Harry finally asked.

Neville shrugged. "Probably the same as you."

"So, shit then?" Harry offered a resigned smile.

"Yeah. Some days are fine and some days, well…"

"You want to curl up in a ball and die so you can be with her."

"Yeah."

* * *

 _December 5th, 1998  
_ _Malfoy Manor_

"Thanks for coming, Longbottom."

Neville nodded. To say he was shocked to be invited to the Manor was an understatement. Aside from Draco's apology two weeks before, his conversations with Malfoy had been limited to school taunts.

It was also the second day in a row he had left home at the behest of someone else. His evening with Harry had descended into drunken reminiscing, facilitated by a fifth of firewhisky, and his morning had been rather rough, as he didn't keep hangover potion on hand.

"Would you like a drink?" Draco was positively casual, in grey slacks and a white linen button down. Neville wore something similar, although such dress was typical for his forays into the gardens. He was sure that, for Draco, this was barely a step above nightwear.

"Water, please."

Draco nodded. A house elf popped in with a glass of water, which she handed to Neville, and then disappeared.

He drank, relishing in the slight relief he felt, and then turned to his host. "What is this about, Malfoy?"

"Ah." Draco put his hands behind his back. If Neville hadn't known better, he would've thought the blond was nervous. "Yes. Come with me."

The blond left the parlor, and Neville followed him down a long hall. They turned into the conservatory, which had floor-to-ceiling windows and a large variety of plants. Neville was immediately drawn to a flowering plant near the door.

"Asphodel?" Neville asked.

Draco nodded. "In a way. Take a look."

Neville drew near the plant and tentatively touched it. The petals, typically a brilliant white, were a dull cream. They drooped along the stem, and the stem seemed more striated that normal. The soil at the bottom of the plant looked chalky, despite clearly being recently watered.

He looked up to his host. "What's wrong with it?"

Draco shrugged. "We don't know. We thought the plants had been somehow effected by Voldemort's residence, but this plant is brand new—as are the others in this room. Within a month of being here, all the plants become sickly."

Draco walked to the windows and gestured outside. "It's the same thing in our gardens, although those plants are from before the war. We don't know what's causing it. Father and I are concerned that it's lingering Dark magic. I had hoped to draw on your expertise."

Neville put down his water and examined the asphodel, and absently responded to Draco. "I'm not really an expert. I'm not even a Master yet."

Draco watched as Neville examined the plant. He noted the changes, even since their last year at Hogwarts. _That_ Neville Longbottom had been a warrior, hard and unyielding. He hadn't been present when Longbottom had killed Nagini, but he could have imagined the boy from his seventh year doing so.

But this man was something different. He was an amalgamation of the two Neville Longbottom's that had been: the weak but kind-hearted boy of their first year, and the war-hardened guerrilla of their final year. A tough warrior, whose edges had softened in the months since the war.

Draco admired him, though he would never admit it out loud.

"You're better versed than either Father or I. This was my mother's area of the house, and she was knee deep in working on what was wrong when she succumbed to the plague. She was something of a hobby Herbologist."

Neville nodded absently as he moved to another plant, pushing his fingers into the soil and furrowing his brow.

"Plus, you have a vested interest in figuring out what's wrong."

"Hm?"

"Hermione will be moving in soon."

Neville looked up at that. "Really?"

"Well, not _that_ soon. But hopefully in two months, depending on the success of the antidote. And if this is connected to lingering Dark magic, we need to bring in a curse breaker and have it expunged before she starts living here. I won't have her—or my children—exposed to any remnants of Voldemort."

Neville nodded. "I understand. I'm not really prepared, but let me consult some books I have at home. You might reach out to Bill Weasley as well."

Draco nodded. "Thank you. Don't cancel plans you have, but Father and I would like this resolved as soon as possible."

It was definitely some form of Dark magic, although what would influence new plants Neville wasn't quite sure. He rubbed the leaf of a lemon tree between his fingers and watched it turn to ash. That was _interesting_.

"No plans until Monday," he responded to Draco absently, still running through possibilities in his mind. "Until I start my Mastery, I'm not doing much. Longbottom Hall is depressingly empty, and was before Gran died. Now that Hannah's gone, it's just me and my Mastery prep."

He hadn't meant that to sound as pathetic as it did when it came out, but it was true.

Draco frowned at that. He knew how isolated he felt, and he had Lucius for company most nights. But, despite years of etiquette training, he wasn't quite sure what the appropriate response was. They weren't friends, so an invitation to stay at the Manor was quite out of the question, and any other response would sound placating.

"Well then," he said after a few moments. "That sounds fine. I'll leave you keyed into the Floo. The majority of our plants are here in the conservatory or out in the garden, but if you need access to another part of the Manor just let me know."

Neville stood, nodding. After the two men left the room, Neville cast a _Scourgify_ on himself. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"We don't know what's causing the decay, and I don't want to accidentally take something back to Longbottom Hall with me. I've been cultivating some plants at home for over a decade, and I would hate to accidentally bring something back with me that would destroy them."

"It's not the plague," said Draco flatly, frowning at his companion.

"No, but we don't know what it is. I won't apologize for protecting my home." Neville didn't break eye contact with the blond, who finally gave him a short nod.

Neville turned into the fireplace and called out "Longbottom Hall." All of a sudden, he had a lot on his plate. He needed to buy a Yule gift for Hermione, to check in on Harry after their emotional blood-letting the night before, and now to look into the Malfoy problem.

And though he still returned to an empty home, he felt as optimistic as he had in a long while.


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: I'm happy to see most people enjoyed checking in with Neville. He's such a darling. I hope to do him justice; I feel like I've only read a few *really* good fics with him as a primary character._

 _So I'm going with my gut and doing the sexy stuff on my own terms. This chapter is more euphemistic, since they sexy time isn't really the focus of what happens. If you're hoping for something more explicit, I *may* work toward that later, but no guarantees; I would suggest, instead, you check out Oracle Obscured's work (mostly Snamione) which is explicit smut done *very* well. I adore 'Teaching Miss Granger.'_

 _As always, I'm grateful for your willingness to read my silly little story, and I hope you'll leave feedback! xx_

* * *

 _December 6th, 1998  
_ _Katie Bell's Apartment_

"I'm pregnant."

Hermione's jaw dropped. She'd just dropped by to pick up Becca for dinner at Malfoy Manor that night. Severus and Theo were meeting them there, and Hermione was hoping to make the young witch more comfortable with the two Slytherins. But then Katie had pulled her into her room, saying they needed to talk for a minute before she took off with Becca.

And then Katie had dropped a bomb.

"What?"

"I'm pregnant, Hermione. I missed my period two weeks ago. I thought it was stress, because these past few weeks have been nothing but, but I figured better safe than sorry. So I did the spell, and it came up white." There were tears in the corner of her eyes. "What do I do?"

Hermione sat on the bed and pulled the older witch into a hug. Katie cried softly into her shoulder.

"Does George know?"

She shook her head. "I didn't want to tell him in case… well, there's a 50% chance it will come to nothing, right?"

Hermione breathed deep and nodded. Katie hadn't taken the antidote yet, so the baby had already been infected by the plague; if it was a girl, it was almost certain that Katie would miscarry.

The two girls sat silent for a minute, Hermione rubbing Katie's back as the tears slowly subsided.

"What do you need?" Hermione asked softly.

Katie put her face in her hands and sighed. "I just need someone to know. Things are still a little strained with Alicia, since she can't… you know. Becca's so young. And I can't get George's hopes up if…" The older girl breathed deep and looked up.

"I can charm for the baby's sex at the new year. I just need someone to know. If it's a girl and I lose her, I just… I just need someone to know."

* * *

 _Malfoy Manor_

"For you." Severus handed Hermione a small, plain box. She furrowed her brow.

He rolled his eyes. "I was under the impression you would be starting the fertility potions this week?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh." Hermione blushed. "Yes, thank you."

She glanced at Lucius, who was fixing a drink for her at the end of the room. Draco, Theo, and Becca were sitting in the middle of the room having what looked to be very awkward small talk. Hermione had encouraged Becca to dress more formally, and then young girl had taken her advice. Her short dark hair had been styled, instead of hanging loose around her glasses as Hermione had often seen her. She wore a charcoal grey dress with capped sleeves that came to her knees. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, her hands folded in her lap, but it was clear to Hermione the girl felt quite out of place.

Her mind wandered to Katie, back at her apartment and alone. She understood what the girl was asking of her—if she lost the baby, she needed someone to recognize her grief. Hermione knew, cognitively, that pregnancy loss was not uncommon and that, especially in the wake of the plague, such losses were common, but her heart knew how much Katie wanted to give George the family he desired and that a miscarriage now would emotionally devastate the girl.

"Hermione?"

"Mmm?" She looked up at Severus.

"I said, the antidote is also in there. It's the red vial on top. You must take it at least 24 hours before starting the fertility potions. Do you understand?"

"Red vial. Full day before blue potions. Got it." She smiled at him. "I apologize. I'm a bit far away tonight. How are things going with Becca?"

Severus's eyes briefly darted to the young witch in question. "She is… young."

"And very sweet. I quite like her."

Severus sneered, though Hermione noted it seemed to lack any real ire. "She's very… Hufflepuff."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Sweet, kind, loyal. I imagine she'll be an excellent mother to your children."

Severus sipped his glass of firewhisky and said nothing.

"Hermione," said Lucius, handing the witch her wine. He glanced at the box in her hand, but made no other comment.

"Thank you, Lucius." She sipped her drink and then turned back to Severus. "She's also hardworking. Did you know that before the announcement of the Procreation Act she wanted to be a Healer?"

"Certainly a lofty goal, but her Potions were passable enough. She'll do well."

Hermione shook her head. "Wanted. Past tense. It has been intimated to her that she won't have time for Healer training after she starts having babies." She didn't look at Severus, but from the corner of her eye she could see his eyes harden and his mouth purse.

She smiled to herself. Severus would see that Becca wasn't run roughshod by the MacMillans. Becca had told Hermione before they left the apartment that she'd had words with Ernie. He would be the first in her group to have a child, and when she had asked about accommodating her Healer training he'd claimed she wouldn't have time as she'd be raising their child.

"I know I'll be a mother, but I didn't know that'd be my whole job!" Becca had huffed earlier. Then her face had collapsed. "I guess he's right. Healer training is intense—I don't know how I'd balance that with caring for kids as well. And the time off for maternity leave… it doesn't really make sense, does it?"

Hermione knew this wasn't her battle to fight, so she simply pat the girl on the arm and said it would all work out.

"We'll see," said the dark-haired wizard, his eyes locked on the younger trio.

Draco excused himself from the group and made his way to Hermione. "May I borrow this lovely witch for a minute?" He smirked at Severus and Lucius and guided her out to the hallway.

"Draco?"

He sighed. "Tonight's the last night we'll be in the Manor for a little while. Longbottom and Bill Weasley were over earlier today, and there's an issue with the dormant magic here that worries Father and me. We'll be relocating to a townhouse we own in Mayfair."

"What do you mean, 'issue'?"

He took her hand. "Let me show you." At her grimace, he explained. "We'll have to pass the drawing room, but we won't go in. It's been boarded up since the war ended."

He took her to the conservatory, and he showed her the asphodel. "Nothing is growing—or, at least, it's not growing correctly. Father and I have both been to Healers, and nothing is wrong with us, but we'd rather not take a chance with you living here while you're pregnant. At least not until whatever is wrong has been taken care of."

She nodded, staring at the dull cream petals of the flower. "Is everything like this?"

He nodded. "Weasley is bringing in a goblin contingent this week to check the elemental magic, and he's running through known curses of the Dark Lord that might be responsible. Longbottom is running tests on some of our flowers."

Draco took her hand and led her back into the hallway. Just seeing her in there, surrounded by dead, dying, and damaged plants, was disconcerting. They walked slowly back to the library, but he kept her hand in his.

"I know we had thought you'd come to stay the evening of Yule and that we'd… but since we'll be moving I thought we might do something a little different."

She narrowed her eyes. "Different how?"

He breathed in. "We have a small cottage in Cornwall that hasn't been used since my grandfather was a child. The elves have kept it up, though. You could spend Yule at Grimmauld and then we could stay there a few days."

That they would spend those days getting her pregnant went unsaid.

"Christmas on the coast?" Hermione asked.

He shrugged. "Malfoys really don't do 'cozy,' which is why the property has been unoccupied for so long. But it's private, which your current accommodations certainly are _not—_ " she saw him consciously hold back a sneer "—and our townhouse won't be much better, what with Father there."

He stopped and squeezed her hand, and she turned to face him.

"If you're not comfortable being alone with me somewhere unfamiliar, I understand. I just thought… even if you don't care, this should be special."

It wasn't often Draco looked out of control or vulnerable, but Hermione could see in his the worry that she wouldn't take him up on his offer. But after weeks of nonstop work, the prospect of taking a few days off was appealing.

She put her hand on his cheek and grinned. "It's cute that you think I'm scared of you." She pat his cheek and started walking again. After a beat, he caught up to her.

"So that's a yes?"

She nodded. "We can leave after dinner at Grimmauld. You and your father are coming."

He nodded absently, and then, having processed what she said, looked sharply at her. "Excuse me?"

She continued smiling and nodding. "Yule dinner at Grimmauld this year. All of us. You can invite Severus if you'd like; I don't imagine the MacMillans will be as forthcoming with their invitations. But you and Lucius, Neville, Harry, Sirius, Teddy and I will do Christmas dinner together." She paused. "Perhaps next year we'll have it here."

"I think it would be best if I just came by after dinner to get you."

Hermione shook her head. "Dinner at Grimmauld. All of us." She looked up at him and willed her eyes as round and pleading as they would go. It was a little manipulative, but given that she never resorted to such tactics, she thought she might get away with it. "Please?"

Draco closed his eyes. He knew exactly what she was doing, with her big doe eyes and hopeful look. Did she forget he was a Slytherin? He knew _exactly_ what she was doing.

He smiled indulgently. "I'll speak with Father."

She hugged him tight.

Point, Hermione.

* * *

Dinner was, to say the least, awkward. Hermione did her best to bridge the conversations for Becca, but the girl was clearly intimidated by the two blond wizards. Eventually, Lucius and Severus fell into their own quiet conversation.

"Becca, have you decided if you'll be returning to Hogwarts this spring?" Hermione was trying to figure out a way to draw out quiet Theo Nott. She knew he was an intellectual—he and Draco had been her closest competitors for top grades throughout school—and she hoped talking about the young witch's academic interests would draw him out.

Becca shrugged. "I'm not sure. Katie has been helping me study for NEWTS, so I don't know if it will be necessary."

"What NEWTs are you taking?" asked Draco.

"I'd planned on Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology, Charms, and Defense. Healer-track. But I'm not sure." She blushed a little, and Hermione knew the young girl was embarrassed.

Theo looked pensively at her. "Severus will be at Hogwarts. You won't find better instruction in Potions. Same with Flitwick. The other three are toss-ups, depending on who they find to teach the classes." He took a drink of his wine. "Did you know more Hufflepuffs become Healers than any other Hogwarts house?"

"Is it because they're all just so kind-hearted and helpful?" asked Draco, the snark evident in his voice. Hermione was surprised when Becca laughed.

Theo glared at the blond. "It's because Healer training is incredibly difficult. A lot of people burn out, especially Ravenclaws. They like the _idea_ of healing, in the sense that it requires a lot of knowledge and is a challenging course of study, but not the actual practice."

He turned to Becca. "You'll be an excellent Healer. From what I know of you so far, your academics won't be a problem, and you'll have something a lot of Healers don't."

"What's that?" she asked quietly.

"A good bedside manner. Do you know what area of healing you'd like to go into?" Hermione noted that Theo gave Becca his complete attention. As long as she'd known the wizard, he'd been aloof. Even in classes, he'd been somewhat detached and only answered direct questions from the professors.

Becca looked down. "I thought I'd like to work with witches, especially pregnant witches." She looked up at Hermione. "Like an OB/GYN."

Hermione nodded. "A Muggle Healer that specializes in women's health," she explained to Draco and Theo. "That makes sense. With the Procreation Act, there will be a rise in pregnancies, and I know St. Mungo's is hurting for qualified Healers. I think you'd do well."

"And you'll have personal experience to draw on eventually, which will further develop your bedside manner," said Theo. If Hermione hadn't known better, she would have swore she saw the young wizard's ears tint pink.

"I can put you in contact with Neville if you need help in Herbology," Hermione offered to Becca. "He'll be able to put together a comprehensive study guide for you." The young witch smiled brightly at her.

"Has McGonagall hired an instructor for Defense yet?" asked Theo.

Draco shook his head. "Not that I know."

Hermione mirrored the blond. "She offered to Harry on a probationary-basis, provided he'd pursue a Mastery in the subject, but he turned her down. He's at the Auror Academy, and he wants to stay in London for Teddy."

Theo raised an eyebrow at Draco.

"Edward Lupin. His parents were Professor Lupin and Auror Tonks, so he's technically my cousin."

Theo nodded in recognition. "I didn't realize he would've had to stay at the castle."

"Only full-time professors. I will Floo in during the week to teach, and I imagine Hermione will Floo in to work on her Mastery, but we won't be required to live there."

It was one of Minerva's smarter moves, Hermione decided. She had been able to secure so many qualified people to teach on a part-time basis—Yuri Blishen, Severus, Bill Weasley—by allowing them to Floo to work and offering Hogwarts resources for personal research and Mastery studies. Only the Headmistress and heads of house would stay in the castle this year. To compensate for the lack of boarding professors, each class had three prefects instead of two.

"So Defense is up in the air. I assume Transfiguration and Herbology as well. Astronomy?"

Draco shrugged.

It was a long evening, but Hermione was generally pleased. Becca had seemed to open up to both Theo and Severus over the course of the night. Theo had escorted her home, and she heard Severus ask her to join him at Prince Manor to discuss her study plan for NEWTs and Healer preparation. Lucius had begrudgingly agreed to Yule dinner at Grimmauld, though he extracted her promise that the following year it would be held at the Malfoy's.

She was sitting next to Draco on a sofa in the Library, finishing her third glass of wine. He was rubbing circles at the base of her thumb.

"I should go," she said softly, but made no move to get up.

He waited a moment before leaning down to her ear, his lips just catching her curls. "Or your could stay. We could work on that intimacy thing." She heard the smirk in his voice.

Her heart thumped loudly, and she was sure he could hear it.

Calm down, Hermione, she thought to herself. You know this isn't anything. He's just helping you get more comfortable. You know this. Don't lose your grip on what's really going on.

In truth, Hermione still wasn't sure how she felt about Draco Malfoy. She'd enjoyed spending time with him before the plague hit, before the Procreation Act; he was intelligent and witty and could keep up with her in conversation. After everything, he'd been accommodating of her needs and opened up even more—at least, as much as a Malfoy could.

And he was beautiful, she couldn't deny that. His grey eyes popped on the background of his pale coloring, and he was all sharp angles coupled with the languid demeanor of the aristocracy.

He was so much taller than her, she noted, as he slid his arm around her shoulders, caressing her arm and nuzzling her ear. She unconsciously leaned into him as she pondered his offer.

"Harry and Sirius will be worried if I don't go home," she protested weakly.

"Send them an owl." He kissed her jaw.

She hummed her assent, and he titled her chin toward him and gently kissed her.

Merlin, he was a good kisser.

Eventually, he stopped kissing her long enough for her to pen a short note to her flatmates and head toward Draco's room.

"No sex," she had told him once she could think clearly again.

He scoffed. "I know, Hermione. Just sleep. And kissing. And…?" He eyed her questioningly.

"And what?" she furrowed her brow.

"And maybe some fooling around. Tell me," he said, taking her by the waist and closing his bedroom door, "the best way to make you come."

She blushed profusely and looked down. "Draco."

"Hey." He took her chin and raised it so she was looking at him. "When we _do_ have sex, I want it to be good for you. _You_ want it to be good for you, right?"

She nodded.

He leaned in and kissed her, working his way from her mouth her neck, right beneath her ear. "What's the best way to make you come, Hermione."

She breathed loudly at his ministrations, and whispered, "I've only ever come by my hand."

He stilled for a moment, and then continued. He used his hands at her waist to guide her to his bed. When she bumped the mattress with her legs, he pulled back.

"Will you teach me?"

She thanked Circe, Nimue, and Morgana that Draco was a quick but thorough study.

* * *

 _A/N: When I was first pregnant, I knew at about five weeks. As anyone whose been pregnant will tell you, the chance of first trimester miscarriage is very scary. Aside from my husband, I had one friend who knew I was pregnant until about 10 weeks, because I wanted someone who would come over and eat lots of ice cream and cry with me if something happened. (My husband told his brother, who was that person for him.) I envision Katie having a similar need, although even more so since she's keeping it from George because of the very high possibility of miscarriage and her desire to not get his hopes up if it comes to nothing._


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: Next week, Yule and the trip to Cornwall (bow-chicka-wow-wow). From there, things will speed up quite a bit. We'll also be checking in with our secondary characters soon, including Daphne, Katie, Becca et al._ _As a reminder, Teddy is only about 8 months old at this point. Canonically, he was born in April 1998._

 _A little delayed in posting today; work is nuts and I'm dealing with a sick puppy. I'm hoping, given next week's plot, that I'll be able to post two(!) chapters over the weekend. I'm so grateful for all your feedback and questions. As always, thanks for reading! xx_

* * *

 _December 15th, 1998_  
 _Malfoy Manor_

The four wizards were seated at a table in Lucius's study: Bill Weasley, looking grim and apologetic; Neville, mirroring Bill's demeanor, but with a harder, more determined edge; Draco, his brow furrowed; Lucius, looking as nonplussed as usual. It was the elder Malfoy who finally addressed the curse breaker.

"So how do you propose we move forward?" he asked.

Bill nodded. "Without a specific curse, it's difficult to say. The problem is that so much Dark magic was performed during Voldemort's stay that it has literally affected the Manor's magical energy. Honestly, your stint in Azkaban and time working at the Ministry and Draco's time away at Hogwarts, have probably saved your lives. I'm sorry if this is insensitive, but given how much time your wife spent at home while Voldemort was in residence, Lucius, I truly believe if the plague didn't take her she would've slowly fell ill and eventually died. You both need to move out, yesterday.

"Because there's nothing specific to target, you'll need to wipe the magical energy of the entire estate and start new. That means you'll lose the Malfoy wards, although they can be re-erected later. You'll need a ritual cleansing, including specific cleansing of any ley lines that cross the property, and then I would recommend at least one or two light rituals to bring a positive magical energy back before re-erecting the Malfoy wards and imbuing the grounds with your family magic."

"And who would lead these rituals?" asked Draco. He spared a glance at his father, who he knew was versed in some ritual magic, but he wasn't sure if that experience skewed light enough for their needs.

"The goblins could, for a fee," began Bill, "but the price will be steep, and the cleansing won't be as meaningful as it would for someone actually connected to the land."

"It would be better for us to lead the ritual," Lucius surmised. "Draco or I."

Bill nodded. "Preferably Draco. He has a close tie with the land, but…" Bill averted his eyes "…he's not as steeped in Dark magics."

Lucius only nodded.

"Once the land has been cleansed, you'll need to participate in the Light rituals as well if you want the magics of your property bound to your House. If either of you were to wed…"

"No," said Lucius shortly.

"Unlikely," drawled Draco at the same time.

"… but in the absence of a wedding," Bill continued, "you could have a series of blessing ceremonies. A godparents blessing for your future children, or a solstice or equinox ritual celebration."

Neville looked at the red head. "Isn't the ritual celebration for the Spring Equinox…"

"… a sex magic ritual, yes," finished Bill. "But assuming you can complete the cleansing in time, it's the first opportunity for a Light-based blessing, and the sooner you begin renewing the magics of the estate, the sooner you can move back in."

The men were silent a moment.

"I assume," Draco said slowly, "that the ritual should be performed by those intimately connected to the land?"

Bill nodded.

"And given that Mother has passed, the next witch would be…"

"Hermione," finished Lucius, his face still completely unreadable.

Draco glanced at his father before turning and making eye contact with Neville. The brunette man shot the blond a commiserating look. Of the four men in the room, three were acutely aware of Hermione's lack of sexual experience. And while her intrinsically curious nature might have her brain interested in ritual magics, her inexperience and Muggle upbringing were likely to raise significant issues in practice.

In a former life, Neville would have paid money to see Draco Malfoy ask Hermione Granger to participate in a sex magic ritual. She would've probably invented new hexes just for the occasion. But, given the current circumstances, the thought was awkward and, though Neville refused to acknowledge the feeling, more than a little upsetting.

* * *

 _December 17th, 1998_  
 _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

"What are you doing, kitten?"

Sirius had Teddy on his hip, and the baby was grasping at the man's shoulder-length hair and blowing raspberries with his lips. Sirius used his handkerchief to wipe away the drool collecting at Teddy's chin.

The witch didn't look up from her writing. "A grocery list for Yule dinner. A to-do list for the weekend to make sure the house is clean for the day. A timeline to make sure everything happens on time and is good to go before I leave. A list of stuff to prep for being away from Teddy for three days…"

Sirius plopped the child in question into Hermione's lap. She squeaked in surprised, and Teddy giggled at the sound. "Mi!" He raised his arms at her for a hug, his blue hair shifting to mirror the color of her curls. "Mi!"

She grinned and pulled him close. "Oh Teddy, what will I do without you for three whole days?"

Sirius coughed. "I can think of a few things." He took the list from in front of her and glanced through it. Then he shot her a narrow look.

"Kitten, you do realize that despite my penchant for pranking and mischief that I am a grown man, right?"

"Of course Sirius," she said absently, cooing at Teddy.

"So remind me why you need to remind me of the bedtime of a child I've been watching over for two months?" He huffed. "Bed time is _my_ time." He glanced back at the list. "Plus, you got the bedtime process wrong. It's bath, bottle, _story_ , bed, not bath, bottle, bed."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ah yes, the wonderful adventures of Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs."

Sirius grinned. "We'll make him a mini-Maurader yet. We'll get the cub here a proper Maurader name and everything." His look sobered somewhat. "Someday I'll have to tell him about Moony's furry little problem, but I never want that to be the way he thinks about his dad."

She nodded, removing roving little fingers from her hair. "It's important he knows Remus for everything he was—a Marauder, a Professor, a war hero, _and_ a werewolf."

Sirius put the paper back on the table and pulled Teddy from Hermione's arms. "We've got this, kitten. You go take a bath or something."

She glanced at her lists and back at Sirius. "You'll be OK for the evening?"

Sirius chuckled. "Considering I'll be out with Kingsley, yeah. Harry's on cub duty as soon as he gets home."

Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Kingsley?"

Sirius shrugged. "He was at my support group meeting. Got matched with some bird in his department—he's actually her boss. She a few years older than you, so we're a bit in the same boat. Figured us old dogs should stick together, so we're going to try to meet up every so often. Plus, I think he's still trying to get me to come back to the Auror department. As if I could leave my life of leisure."

Sirius rocked Teddy back and forth, and the tiny metamorphmagus giggled. "Buh!"

"Yup, raising an infant. Life of leisure indeed." Hermione kissed Sirius on the cheek, and then did the same to Teddy, who squealed "Mi!"

"I think I'll take your advice and run a bath. Let Harry know I'm having a relaxing night in, and if he needs help with Teddy I'm unavailable."

"If that's the case, I'll tell him to Floo Malfoy. Kid could use the practice."

* * *

Harry Potter stared at his godson in loathing and contempt. Teddy had been crying for _an hour_ , and his hair was shifting through the entire color spectrum. Harry wasn't exactly sure how the kid hadn't strained his vocal cords at this point.

Harry didn't look particularly great himself. In an effort to fix whatever was wrong, he had changed, fed, bathed, and rocked Teddy. He now had green goo smeared in his hair and on his cheek, and his unruly black hair was even more frazzled than usual. His light blue sweater was covered in drool and tears, and Teddy didn't look close to letting up.

"Mi!" cried the infant. "Mi! Mi!'

"Shhh." Harry rocked the infant on his hip. "Mione can't come right now." He glared up at the ceiling—were war wards really necessary for a girl's night in?

Teddy let out a particularly ear-piercing scream. OK, war wards were probably necessary.

Harry glanced toward the Floo. Sirius had said to call Malfoy, but Harry didn't want that git in his house. His and Sirius's house. It was bad enough him and his ferret-y father were coming over for Yule.

He could call Ron. Or, better yet, Molly. Molly would know what to do.

But there was no answer at the Burrow, and Harry looked to the sky wondering if the fates really hated him. In his mind, he knew this wasn't Teddy's fault, but in the moment it sure felt like the kid was working to drive him batty.

Harry sucked in a breath. He was at his wit's end, and even he had to fall on his pride at some point.

* * *

"What do you want, Potter?"

When Draco had received Harry's frantic Floo call, he'd dropped everything, thinking something had happened to Hermione. Once he'd sussed out the issue was _not_ the witch in question, he'd immediately relaxed.

Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, Chosen One, Savior of the Wizarding World, looked like he'd been through hell. And considering Malfoy had seen him after destroying Ravenclaw's diadem with Fiendfyre, that was saying something.

"Help me, Malfoy. Sirius is out, Hermione's locked herself behind some of the strongest wards I've ever seen—something about a 'witch's night in'—the Weasleys are who-knows-where and Teddy hasn't stopped crying for almost two hours now." Harry practically threw the baby into Draco's arms. "Sirius said if there was a problem, I should call you. So I'm calling you."

Draco held the infant away from him and cocked his head. The baby was still crying, but it had reined in the screaming in order to assess the blond in front of him. "Mi? Mi!" Teddy cried.

"Your what?" Draco asked the child.

"'Mi' is his name for Hermione," Harry explained. "He's been screaming for her nonstop."

"Hm." Draco walked toward the high chair. "Well, she's unavailable, so you'll just have to wait…" He moved to set the baby down.

"No!" cried Harry.

But it was too late. Draco's arms left Teddy, and the infant lost it. Crocodile tears rolled out of his eyes, and his face turned bright red as he wailed as loud as he could. "Mi!" he screamed. "Mi! Mi!"

"What did I do?" Draco asked, aghast.

"You put him down!" exclaimed Harry. "You can't set him down when he's upset, it just upsets him more."

"But he didn't want me! He wanted Hermione!"

The two wizards yelled at each other over the baby, who was himself screaming at the top of his tiny but powerful lungs.

Two stories up, an extremely powerful witch remained blissfully unaware of the chaos below. She lounged on her bed in sweats, absently flipping through the most recent issue of _Runes Quarterly_ as she gave herself a pedicure.

"Fine!" cried Malfoy, hauling the child out of the high chair. He held the kid close and walked to the parlor. He sat on the sofa and put Teddy down next to him. "Sit there and calm down, Edward."

Teddy was still crying, but he worn himself out. Instead of staying seated, he crawled into Draco's lap. "Mi," he whined. "Mi. Mi."

Draco looked down, astonished, as the child, still sniffling, curled into his chest. Not knowing what else to do, Draco leaned back against the sofa and rubbed circles into Teddy's back. Teddy's hair lightened a few shades, turning a dusty blond, and Draco noted after a minute that the sniffles became soft snores. He peered down and saw Teddy's mouth ajar, the last of his tears halfway down his cheek and a stead stream of snot collected on his top lip.

"Disgusting," sneered Malfoy, pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping the boy's nose. Teddy bristled at the fabric on his face and nuzzled deeper into the blond's chest.

"Malfoy, I brought a bottle just in case…"

"Shhh!"

Harry stopped short when he saw his godson— _his godson_ —sleeping soundly on Draco sodding Malfoy. Rationally, he knew he was the one who'd called Malfoy over. It was his fault the git was even there. But how had Malfoy managed to calm Teddy when everything Harry had done to placate the child had come up short?

Draco watched the dark haired wizard frowning, and looked down at the sleeping baby. He felt a sarcastic remark die on his lips. He'd promised Hermione to try and work on his relationship with Scarhead.

"He probably just wore himself out," Draco said. It was the most polite thing he could think of in the moment.

Harry's frown never left his face, but Draco watched the tension in the man's shoulders lift a bit.

"See if you can shift and carry him. I'd take him, but I'd rather not risk waking him."

Once Draco had laid Teddy in his cot, the two older wizards made for the kitchen. Harry _Accio-_ ed two tumblers and firewhisky, and poured a double in both glasses.

Draco sat at the unspoken invitation. He may have been called over in a moment of baby-induced panic, but it seemed his visit had taken a more personal turn for Boy Wonder.

After a few minutes, Harry finally spoke. "I'm going to ask you some questions, and given our history I will take any prevarication from you to mean you are dishonorable and untrustworthy."

Draco nodded his head slightly, once. He could see where this was going.

Harry breathed deep. "Hermione is my best friend, even though I've been a right shit these last few weeks, and I need to know that she'll be safe with you next week."

"Hermione will be the mother of the future Malfoy Heir. I will do everything in my power to keep her safe."

Harry nodded and poured another glass. "And how do you feel about having a Muggle-born as the mother of your children?"

Draco shrugged. "Given the status of our world, currently, Hermione is probably the best we could hope for. She's intelligent, powerful, and not a complete horror show."

Harry eyed the blond. "Do you have any feelings for her?"

Draco studied his glass. Hermione was… unexpected. She was intelligent and forthright and innocent—even after everything she had been through. Being around her wasn't difficult, and he looked forward to her visits. He had continued to dream of a tiny blond boy in maroon and gold and a curly-haired angel that looked up with his own blue-grey eyes and called him "Papa." And when he dreamed, Hermione was there, reading out loud in a nursery and laughing over breakfast and fretting over brooms flying too fast.

But he didn't know what that meant, and he knew Hermione was fighting her own internal battles regarding motherhood. He knew that though his father would likely never have another romantic partnership, there were three other men in Hermione's life—men who were closer to her, had more history with her, who meant more to her—that could be interested in the witch.

"She is more than I expected," Draco finally offered. He was a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor, and he wasn't going to capitulate to Potter's interrogation, not matter how well-meaning.

"She's trusting you with a lot, Malfoy. She's not the kind of person who can divorce her feelings from her actions, no matter how much she rationalizes everything. Keep that in mind—you won't be able to just toss her aside once your heir shows up. She'll want to be around her kids."

"I'm not an idiot, Potter. You think I don't know how fucked up this all is? That I haven't thought about it from Granger's perspective? I do, and I have. I get that you're trying to play the intimidating brother role here, but don't forget you're going to be in my position before long. Tell me, will I have to give you the same talking-to?" Draco smirked.

Harry glared across the table. "I love Hermione. I always have. She and I will always be there for one another."

"And I will always be there if she needs me," finished Draco. "Now if you'll excuse me, your complete lack of parenting skills interrupted what had been a relaxing evening. I'd like to get back to that, if you don't mind." He placed his glass in the sink as he made for the Floo.

"Tosser," he grumbled before announcing his destination to the fireplace.

"Git," muttered Harry over his third glass of firewhisky.


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: Y'all. 250+ reviews, almost 200 favs, and over 500 follows (!) for my little story. You make my heart happy. And when my heart is happy, my muse is happy. Thus, a bonus chapter this week._

 _And, well… let me just say I hope you're happy with this chapter. Feedback is greatly appreciated, as this was a big step outside my comfort zone in writing._

 _As always, thanks for reading! xx_

* * *

 _December 22nd, 1998_  
 _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

If there was a moment that convinced the five men in Hermione's procreation group that she would be an excellent mother, it was the day they gathered for Yule.

It was an awkward meeting—the first that included all five since they'd met in late November. There was still an unspoken tension between Harry and Draco, and Lucius wore his standard Slytherin mask that betrayed no emotion whatsoever. Severus had politely declined the offer to join them, indicating he had his own plans for the day.

Oddly enough, Neville was the most comfortable of the group, moving with ease between the residents of Grimmauld and the former residents of Malfoy Manor.

Hermione had just put the finishing touches on the duck she had been roasting when her alarm sounded for Teddy. Not wanting to interrupt the ongoing conversations in the dining room, she set a stasis charm on the table and retrieved the baby from the nursery.

"Who's on Teddy duty while I finish up dinner?" she asked as she walked into the parlor.

Teddy was generally a happy baby when he woke up, so Hermione asked the question absently, more concerned with making faces at the infant and keeping his hands out of her loose curls.

She looked lovely in her dark green sweater and charcoal skirt, there was no question of that, but more importantly for the men in the room she looked at ease holding the small child who looked to be her exact miniature, all curly brown hair and deep brown eyes. She smiled brightly at the baby, joy and love radiating off her. Her happiness was as palpable as the sparks she emitted when she was angry. She was perfectly at ease with the infant, and more than one man in the room envisioned their own baby in her arms.

"I'll take him, kitten," offered Sirius. She moved the small child into the animagus's hands. Teddy took one look at Sirius before changing his hair to the man's dark coloring, but keeping the curls. His dark brown eyes shifted to a hazel-grey.

Sirius felt his heart skip a beat.

Dinner passed as peacefully as one might hope for, all things considered. The conversations centered around Harry's Auror training the the upcoming Hogwarts semester. Neville announced that Minerva had asked him to teach Herbology, though the NEWT class would be more of a study-group than a formal, graded course. He'd offered to stay on-site in exchange for use of Hogwarts resources and the ability to continue cultivating his orchids at home.

"I can set up a mirror orchid house in the greenhouses," Neville explained, "and chart any differences that arise from the magic of the grounds. Longbottom Hall is my family seat and has my family magic in the grounds, but it's nothing compared to the magic of Hogwarts. It adds a whole new dimension to my project."

Draco looked thoughtfully at Neville. He wondered how much of the move to Hogwarts was for professional reasons, and how much of it was due to the loneliness the man had confided in him not too long ago.

Neville would be a good professor, the blond admitted. He had a quiet way about him, but was a presence that demanded attention when he spoke. Then there was that whole war-hero aspect that would keep students in bright-eyed worship of the man for years to come. Draco acknowledged with no shame that many a young witch and wizard might also be enraptured by the man's tall, slender build and warm brown eyes.

Draco had always had an eye for pretty things, and Neville Longbottom was, admittedly, a pretty wizard.

Despite being equally pretty, Draco knew he wouldn't experience the same ease in the classroom that Neville would. After all, he wasn't a war hero—he was a big bad villain, one who'd been the face of the Death Eaters for Hogwarts students. It's one of the reasons Severus would be taking on the older classes—it was unlikely anyone above third year would take instruction from him. If nothing else, the younger students would be too scared of the Big Bad Death Eater to act out in his classes.

"Why don't we do gifts in the parlor?" asked Hermione, after everyone had finished their Christmas pudding. The men nodded their assent, and Harry took Teddy from his high chair, slipping the infant a small bit of chocolate sauce from his pudding.

Hermione glared at the wizard, who shrugged. "It's Yule," he explained. "Let him celebrate."

Teddy was showered in gifts from Sirius, Harry, and Hermione, including more clothes than the tot would ever wear. From Neville, he received a children's book about plants and a small potted bush that Neville explained had calming properties for magicals. Lucius and Draco had given the boy children's books on magical history and potions, respectively, and Lucius had brought some of Narcissa's Black heirlooms, including some family books specific to women of the Black family.

"He's too young for these yet, but they should stay with the Black family," Lucius explained, handing the books to Sirius. "For lack of her own daughter, Narcissa would've wanted them to go to Andromeda's. Perhaps one day Teddy will have a daughter to pass them on to." The man paused. "Or you."

Everyone studiously avoided looking at Hermione.

Hermione had thought long and hard about her gifts for her group. For Sirius, an expensive pair of black leather gloves and maroon cashmere scarf for riding his motorbike in winter. He grinned at the young witch. "Thanks, kitten."

For Lucius, a collection of narcissus bulbs for the new townhouse. _So you can bring a bit of Narcissa with you when you move_ , Hermione's note explained. Lucius had nodded, his hands tight around the box and a glint in his eye.

"Thank you, Hermione," the man said softly, not looking up from her note.

For Draco, Harry, and Neville, she had gifted them pictures of their former fiancées: a picture of Astoria descending stairs in formal robes at her debut, which Daphne had found when Hermione explained her gift idea; one of Ginny jumping off her broom in her Gryffindor Quidditch kit, laughing brightly after a win against Hufflepuff; and a picture of Hannah in the Hufflepuff Common Room, with her knees curled up to her chest and smiling sweetly at Susan Bones, who had been holding the camera and who had graciously given Hermione the photo for Neville.

Hermione had inserted a handwritten note in the bottom of each frame: _Whatever the future holds for us, let us always remember where we came from and the love that made us who we are._

She also gave Harry a day cloak from WWW that included various protection charms and Neville a pair of gardening gloves specifically spelled to work with delicate plants.

Draco received a note saying he'd receive the rest of his gift later that night. His imagination went a thousand different directions, all variations of an image of Hermione laid on the bed at the Cornwall cottage. Draco maintained his calm mask, but he shifted in his seat to hide the strain against his trousers that the subsequent erection caused.

He spared a glance at her and smirked; she met his gaze, and flushed deeply, but smiled.

Lucius cleared his throat. "Hermione." He handed her a small, neatly wrapped package.

She gasped at the book inside—a rare, out-of-print treaty on Anglo-Saxon variants of the Elder Futhark. She trailed her fingers lightly over the cover, her eyes wide in awe.

"Where did you find a copy?" she asked in awe.

Lucius shrugged. "I made a few inquiries," he said vaguely.

"Thank you," she whispered. She slowly opened the cover.

"Ah ah, kitten, you're not finished yet," chided Sirius. He thrust another package forward. "From Teddy."

The small silver frame held a picture of Hermione, sitting with Tonks cooing over Teddy at Shell Cottage before the Battle of Hogwarts; Remus stood behind them, looking down at his son, pride evident in his eyes. Tears spilled over Hermione's cheeks. Sirius knew how much regard she had for her former professor and the Auror. Tonks, particularly, had never treated Hermione like a child, and the two witches had had more than one heart-to-heart about being capable women surrounded by well-meaning but often frustrating wizards.

She stood and wrapped her arms around Sirius, who hugged her back. Teddy, squished between them, blew a raspberry. Hermione kissed the child on the cheek. "Thank you Teddy," she told him, quite seriously. "I love my gift."

From Sirius, she received a set of professor's robes for Hogwarts from Twilfitt and Tattings, as he knew she'd never spring for clothes that expensive on her own. Harry gave her a fancy set of quills and a specially made jar of red ink. She laughed, recognizing the nod to her Muggle upbringing and teachers' tendency to "bleed red" on poorly-written papers.

 _For the dunderheads you'll have in class_ , his enclosed note read.

Neville gave her a small box with a variety of expensive chocolates from Sugarplums and a light pink orchid. "A Cattleya Hermine," he explained. "It reminds me of you, not just because of the name but because it's one of the more resilient plants in the orchid family."

She took a tiny velvet box with a bow from Draco and knew immediately it was jewelry. When she opened it, she sucked in her breath.

In the box was a vintage silver hair comb, inlaid with pearls and amethysts. It was simple, but elegant, and it was exactly something Hermione would have bought herself, had she been the kind of woman to buy such things.

Draco cleared his throat. "Amethysts are meant to promote peace. Given the Procreation Act and, well, us," he gestured around the room, "I think you may need all the help you can get in that regard." He paused a beat. "That comb was my mother's."

She looked up. "Oh Draco, I can't accept this…"

"It would mean a lot to me if you did." He closed the box, wrapping his hands around hers. "Perhaps someday, if we have a daughter, you can pass it on to her."

Hermione smiled absently at that thought, and nodded. She opened the box and pulled out the comb, securing her hair in a simple French twist. "This will be handy in keeping my hair out of little grubby fingers," she said, looking pointedly at Teddy.

The baby, who was due for his afternoon nap, burrowed into Sirius's chest and rubbed his eyes tellingly. The older man made his excuses to the room, kissing Hermione on the cheek before heading up to the nursery.

"We're here if you need us," he whispered to her, shooting Draco a severe look.

She pat the animagus on his cheek. "I'll be just fine. Happy Yule, Sirius."

"Happy Yule, kitten."

Once Sirius absconded with Teddy, it was clear the celebration was over. Lucius left quickly, with a kiss to Hermione's cheek and a sly smirk to his son.

Neville took Hermione's hand before he left. "Thank you," he said, looking long at her. "I just… thank you."

Hermione smiled sweetly at him, knowing that his heart still hurt for Hannah. "I'm told time heals all wounds."

He offered her a wry grin and a long kiss on the cheek. After, he locked eyes with Draco; the blond offered him a slight nod, which Neville returned. There was an unspoken recognition between the two wizards, as men who had lost but were moving forward and this witch—the witch they were expected to share—was somehow the lynchpin of that movement.

Neville's heart twisted a bit as he left Grimmauld, though he cheerfully announced he'd see the two at Hogwarts in the new year.

Harry hugged Hermione close and whispered in her ear before frowning at Draco and leaving the parlor quickly.

* * *

 _Cornwall Cottage_

Hermione stood in the tiny bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. She and Draco had left Grimmauld less than an hour ago, and she had quickly excused herself to the privacy of the bathroom.

She had put off thinking about this day for so long—it had all seemed so academic, so distant—that now that it was here she didn't know what to do. Well, she knew _what_ to do, but the act itself seemed radically divorced from her current, nervous state.

She looked down at the silk nightgown that Daphne had insisted she buy. It was a deep cream color, with thin straps and lace edging, and it hit her mid-thigh. She felt foolish, but it was loads better than the first thing the Greengrass girl had picked out: a skin-tight, black lace get-up that didn't cover _anything_.

You'll be fine, Hermione chided herself in the mirror. It's just sex.

And pregnancy.

And children.

With multiple men.

And Hermione felt herself start to shake, and tears start to fall. How had this become her life? What was she doing? This was insane.

It wasn't even about the sex anymore—it was about what taking this step represented for her and her future. In another world, she could see herself falling into bed with Draco, sleeping with him of her own volition, but this felt forced and out of her control.

"Granger?" Draco called from the bedroom.

She breathed deeply. "Yeah?" She did her best to cover up the tears in her voice.

"I'm right out here if you need anything, but I had one of our elves stock some potions in the bathroom if you need anything. There's a calming potion, some pain potions—" she heard him breath deep "—and a mild aphrodisiac if you need it."

She wiped the tears from her eyes and opened the bathroom cabinet. She pulled out a calming potion, and drank it down. "Thank you, Draco. I'll be out in a moment."

She splashed her face with water and wiped away the remains of her mini-breakdown. She took a moment to gather breathing under control and to let the potion do its work.

She took one last look in the mirror. It's just Draco, she reminded herself. He's your friend. In a way. And he's worked to make this as pleasant as possible for you. So go have a good time, Hermione.

She opened the door, watching her feet. She heard a sharp intake of breath. When she looked up, Draco was sitting on the edge of the bed, his cloak on a chair and his shoes underneath, but still in his shirt and trousers. He was looking at her with an inscrutable expression.

"I… Daphne said…" she shrugged. "I look ridiculous. I _feel_ ridiculous." She sat next to him. "Thank you for the calming potion. I worked myself to a tizzy. Sometimes it's hard for me to get out of my own head."

She saw him visibly relax from the corner of her eye. She frowned.

"Did you think I took the lust potion?"

Draco shrugged. "Maybe."

She took his hand. "We've been… whatever we've been doing for almost a month now. I haven't needed a lust potion yet." She leaned forward and kissed him softly. "You're a very good looking wizard, Draco."

He turned and smirked at her. She watched his eyes graze over her, lingering on her chest and thighs before returning up to meet her gaze. "And you don't look ridiculous at all. You look breathtaking."

He leaned in to return her kiss. What started as sweet and soft quickly developed into something more intense. Hermione tasted the remains of the pudding from Yule dinner on Draco's lips, and smiled at the sweetness.

He felt her smile into the kiss, and pulled away from her mouth, instead kissing her along her jawline and nipping at her earlobe. He gently pulled the hair comb from her curls and let them tumble over her shoulders. He wandlessly levitated the comb to the dresser, and then ran his hands lightly up and down her side, the silk of her nightgown soft against her skin.

He dragged his hands down and his fingers danced along the lace on her thighs. She pulled at he buttons on his shirt, but was so lost in the sensations of Draco's fingers that she made little progress.

He laughed and pulled back, standing and facing her. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, staring into her eyes as he did so. She scooted back on the bed, noting that while the cottage may have been long unoccupied, the linens were freshly laundered and higher quality than anything Hermione had ever owned.

Her head hit the pillows as Draco tossed his shirt on the chair that held his cloak. Her eyes raked over his sinewy chest, the evidence from Harry's _Sectumsempra_ sixth year criss-crossing his already pale chest with even paler scars.

Draco's trousers hit the floor, and he stood in black boxers, watching her as she watched him.

Finally, Draco knelt onto the bed, peppering her legs with kisses as he made his way north. He slowed at the hem of her gown and slowly worked the lace up toward the apex of her legs with his mouth.

She leaned her head back into the pillows and tried to remember to breath.

She felt his fingers hook around the edges of her knickers, and nearly jumped when his tongue ran across the wet spot between her legs.

"OK?" he asked, gently tugging the silk down her legs.

She nodded, and breathed out a quiet affirmation.

He hovered over her then, his fingers trailing back up her lower half, stopping when he reached the small patch of pubic hair. He softly dragged his finger up her slit, using her natural lubricant to ready her clit for his attentions.

Hermione wasn't very vocal in bed, so Draco kept a close eye on her quiet sounds and body language: when her hands grasped the comforter, when her eyes rolled up to the ceiling, the small gasps of breath when he hit a spot _just so_.

After a few minutes, he dragged his fingers from her clit down to her opening. He slowly inserted one, moving in about halfway before withdrawing. He had only fingered her once before, and she was still incredibly tight around his hand. After a few gentle thrusts, he inserted a second finger and began the long work of loosening her up. His cock was throbbing with need, but he hadn't spent the last month working on their physical intimacy just to blow it now.

Once his second finger fit in her snugly, he lowered his mouth to her clit. They hadn't done this before, and he felt her tense up, but he gently lathed his tongue across her button and felt her shudder.

"OK?" he asked again, his mouth breathing hot against her folds

"Oh yes," she moaned quietly, and he returned to his ministrations.

He was patient but persistent, and before long he felt her clench around his fingers, her hands pulling at his hair, a stifled moan escaping her lips. He stayed intent until the orgasm had completely passed and he felt her body relax.

He kissed his way up her torso, staying above her nightgown, until he came to her chest. He took her breast in his hand and, still above the silk, licked her pert nipple before moving up to lavish her attentions at her neck.

Hermione's hands gingerly made for the elastic of his boxers, toying with the material at his hips before slowly making their way toward his front and gripping his hard length.

"I won't last very long if you do that," admitted Draco breathily.

She released her grip on his cock and returned to his waistband, pushing the shorts down an inch or so. Draco pulled back and shimmied the boxer down to his knees, awkwardly sliding out them while still hovering above her.

Hermione had felt his dick before, but never seen it. It was a pink-red contrast to his pale skin, though Hermione knew in the back of her mind that was a result of the blood rushing to his lower half. Without thinking, she reached out and dragged her thumb over his tip, which glistened with pre-cum.

He inhaled sharply, and his hands went for her bum, lifting the nightgown to her waist. "May I take this off?"

She nodded, and raised her arms so he could life the silk over her head. He tossed it in the general direction of the chair with his clothes as she laid back against the pillows. He stared down at her, all curls and flushed skin and bright brown eyes and dusty bronze nipples.

"Merlin, you're gorgeous." The words escaped him before her could think.

She smiled up at him, affection in her eyes. "Will you kiss me?" she asked.

He leaned down and took her lips in his own. She tasted herself on him, musky and tangy. She felt him lower himself onto her, his erection pressed at her thighs. His tip pushed against her clit, the wet of her arousal sliding him toward her stomach.

He grabbed his cock and brought it to her opening. He pulled back and looked into her eyes.

"OK?"

She nodded, and he pushed slowly forward.

He felt a slight resistance as he fully sheathed himself, and he watched her face scrunch in pain. Once he was completely inside her, he stopped and waited.

Hermione felt a sharp pain that slowly subsided in waves. As she waited for it to pass, she focused on Draco's face. His white-blond hair hung over his grey eyes, which were looking just past her in concentration and determination. His mouth was slightly open, and his breath was warm on her cheek. He closed his eyes and moved his mouth silently, and Hermione couldn't figure out what he was saying.

"Draco?" she asked.

"OK?"

She nodded, the pain having mostly subsided. He pulled slowly out of her and then pushed back in. He was propped up on his forearms, his face just above her own. He leaned toward her ear as he continued to push in and out of her.

"You feel fantastic Hermione. Fucking wonderful."

She smiled and turned to kiss him again. He pulled back and picked up the pace, staring down at her as she returned her gaze.

She did not forget him moving in and out of her, but almost all of her focus was on his eyes. Watching him watch her as they had sex was more intimate than anything she'd done with anyone, and her heart clenched in her chest as she tried to process that.

She was jolted out of her thoughts a few minutes later when Draco closed his eyes and sped up his movements. "Merlin, Hermione, you're so… I'm not going to last."

She grazed her fingers up his chest to his cheek. "Come, Draco."

After a few more forceful thrusts he jerked inside of her, twisting his face in a glorious agony as he came. He pushed into a few more times before stopping completely, still enveloped in her warmth.

They stared at each other for a moment before he finally withdrawn and rolled off her. He glanced down and noted a small bit of blood on his slowly deflating dick, but made no move to clean himself off. He slipped an arm around the witch at his side, who cuddled into his chest for warmth.

Hermione burrowed into Draco, making a point to avoid his eyes. He smelled of sweat and bergamot, and she felt his hand rub slowly up and down her arm, causing her skin to break out in goosebumps.

"OK?" he finally asked, staring at the ceiling above them.

"More than OK," she said quietly.


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: Late on this chapter. Apologies. A few things: work is crazy busy, and I'm out of town next week, so I may be late on next week's chapter as well._

 _I also sort of started on the epilogue, which isn't for many, many chapters, but it helped figure out how I'm moving forward re: relationships. Also, I got hit by another plot bunny that had to be written. Right now, it's as a one-shot in my_ "Jurassic Challenge: One-Shots" _story_ _(Chapter 10, if you're interested-I'd love to hear your thoughts on the concept!), but as I note there, it might be my next multi-chapter fic. Maybe. That took up my Thursday when I should have been finishing this chapter._

 _We're picking up, time-wise. I get the feeling some people won't be pleased with how this chapter goes after last chapter, but it didn't seem right to have Hermione and Draco simply fall into bed together after their time at the cottage. At least, not yet. :)_

 _As always, thanks for reading. I'd love to hear what you think! xx_

* * *

 _February 4th, 1999  
_ _Malfoy Townhouse_

Draco and Hermione stayed at the cottage for three days. She found a strange peace in their rhythm: reading and talking and cooking together during the day, and in the evenings they'd have a brief roll in the hay before bed.

Upon their return, Hermione had spent a week pulling her life together at Grimmauld before moving into the Malfoy townhouse. In many ways, she thought the townhouse a better fit for the three of them—it was certainly a more reasonable mount space—but she knew Lucius and Draco had a pull to the family magics at the manor, so she fought against rolling her eyes each time Lucius bemoaned the small rooms or Draco the lack of outdoor space.

Though, she admitted to herself, she would've liked to spend more time at the Manor's library.

And then it was the new year and she was consulting with the Procreation Department administrators and gathering information for her mastery and meeting with Master Blishen and grabbing lunch with Daphne Greengrass and spending her Friday nights with Becca and Katie.

It was the Friday before the new Hogwarts term when Hermione was over that the older witch asker her to perform the sex reveal spell.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when a small wisp of light morphed into the Mars symbol.

Katie cried.

And then the term had started and Hermione was assisting the upper-level Runes classes and working on her own project and looking out on the Great Hall during lunch, seated between Master Blishen and Neville, watching the new social dynamics play out.

Becca looked distinctly uncomfortable around her classmates, and Neville revealed she kept mostly to herself in the NEWT study group. She seemed particularly wary of the returning 7th years: Susan Bones and Megan Jones shot her dirty looks from across the Hufflepuff table.

According to Neville, Ernie MacMillan had been dating Susan prior to the plague.

Her already low estimation of Ernie, due to his heavy-handed treatment of Becca, dropped even further, and she was also disappointed in Susan for taking out her anger on poor girl.

If that's Hufflepuff loyalty, give me Gryffindor any day, the curly-haired witch thought.

She also made it a point to smile brightly at Becca whenever she could, so the younger witch knew she had a friend in the castle.

She and Draco had developed a nice routine: they would have breakfast at the townhouse, Floo to Hogwarts together, while students were at their morning meal, and go their separate ways. They would see each other again at lunch, though he sat between Severus and Professor Flitwick. They would Floo back to the townhouse individually, as their schedules allowed, but they always made it back for dinner with Lucius. Evenings were spent reading and grading.

They had not so much as held hands since their days in the cottage.

This morning, Hermione sat down to breakfast—her standard tea and toast—but found herself racing for the toilet as soon as the smell of Draco's sausage made its way to her nose.

And as she sat, retching in the ceramic bowl, she thought, Well, I guess that's it then.

A minute later, Draco knocked on the door. "Hermione? Are you alright?"

She moaned what she hoped was an affirmative response.

When she was finished, she splashed cool water on her face and made her way back to the dining room.

"I don't think I'm very hungry anymore."

Lucius gave her a long look. "Shall we perform the charm?" She nodded.

She sat on a sofa in the parlor and laid out so her abdomen was prostrate. Lucius waved his wand over her, muttering in Latin.

His wand lit up in a bright white glow.

"Congratulations," he said, smiling. They both looked toward Draco, who was regarding Hermione's midsection with half joy, half abject fear.

"I'll have Tippy make you some mint tea. That should help settle your stomach." Lucius turned and left.

Hermione regarded Draco, still staring at her midsection. Finally, he looked up at her.

"You're pregnant."

"That is traditionally what happens when you have sex while hopped up on fertility potions."

Draco scowled. "I know that."

"Then why are you so shocked?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. It's all been academic until now, I guess." He furrowed his brow. "Are you OK? Is the baby OK?"

She nodded. "I guess it's morning sickness. It's actually a good thing, I've read. It means my hormones and stuff are where they need to be for a healthy pregnancy."

He nodded. "Good, that's good."

The two stared at each other, and felt the seconds tick by.

"It's odd, isn't it?" asked Hermione, after a while. "It feels so big, like everything is changing…"

"… and totally anticlimactic at the same time," finished Draco. "It is odd. Perhaps it's because we knew it was coming."

She nodded.

As she finished getting ready for her day, she found her hands constantly moving to her stomach.

Pregnant. With a baby. Draco Malfoy's baby.

The weirdest part was how not weird it was. She felt comfortable with Draco, despite her experiences at the Manor less than a year before. She found a kindred spirit in his drive to succeed. She reveled in the pleasant conversations over dinner about their work on their projects and the students in their classes, the quiet evenings they spent reading in their respective fields. He had even accepted an invitation to Grimmauld Place one evening and had spent it holding Teddy with a wary but affectionate look in his eyes.

She met him in the townhouse's parlor, where the Floo was located, and gave him a wan smile.

"Feeling all right?" he asked.

She nodded.

And just before they stepped through the Floo together, her eyes widened in surprise as he took her hand in his.

* * *

 _February 12th, 1999  
_ _St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries_

"You're right about seven weeks," Franklin MacMillan told her, holstering his wand. "How have you been feeling?"

"I've been quite sick in the mornings, through about ten," admitted Hermione. "And I tire easily, so I usually take a cat nap during a break in classes in the early afternoon."

He nodded. "That's all normal. Any abdominal pain?"

She shook her head. "None."

"Good. You'll be able to perform a sex charm in a little more than a month, if you want to know if you're having a boy or a girl. I imagine the Procreation Department will request it of you." He gave her a commiserating smile. "You'll also need to start on prenatal potions, if you're not already taking them."

"Draco has been brewing them for me since the new year."

"Good. Do you have any questions?"

Yeah. What the hell am I doing? Hermione thought.

"No. Thank you Healer MacMillan. I'll see you in a month."

"I'll see you then. And congratulations, Hermione."

* * *

 _February 22nd, 1999  
_ _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Hermione's exhaustion hit her like a brick wall in the afternoons. She started falling asleep wherever she was when it came on: in the library, her office, and, one particularly nice afternoon, surrounded by books in one of the greenhouses. Neville had found her that day, and after a sound verbal lashing, he had insisted she use his quarters to rest.

"I'm not using them during the day, Hermione," he explained. Exasperated when she continued to demure, he finally asked, "Should I bring up the issue with Malfoy?"

Hermione had scowled at Neville, knowing that bringing Draco into the mix would result in him demanding private chambers for her and a personal house elf to cater to her needs and supervise her health while at the school.

She'd just barely dodged the latter, and she assumed Draco was waiting for the moment when he could justify having Tippy follow her every move.

When she woke from her nap early, she made her way to Neville's small parlor, which also served as his office. He and Draco were both there, sharing a pot of tea. Draco looked somber, while Neville looked thoughtful.

"Hi boys. What are you doing?"

They looked up at her, and Draco smirked. "We're working through the first cleansing ritual for the Manor. Neville won't be able to go over it with us this weekend—he's drawn Hogsmeade duty."

Hermione sat on the couch next to Neville. He had been kind enough to let her stash sweats in his chambers, and she was wearing them with an oversized Gryffindor jumper she'd snatched from Harry. Both wizards were still in their teaching robes.

Draco poured her a cup of tea.

"When?" she asked.

"The new moon."

"Who?"

"Father and I, plus Longbottom, Potter, and Black, since they will be family, in a way. They also have a vested interest in keeping you hale and whole. Plus Severus and Theo, as the ritual calls for seven and both have spent enough time at the Manor to have the emotional ties necessary for the magic."

Hermione cocked her head and pulled her knees up to her chest. Draco noted her toenails were painted the same maroon as stupid Potter's sweater.

"I'm surprised Harry agreed. He's been averse to anything dealing with ritual magic since the end of fourth year and…" Hermione didn't finish her sentence. She remember that Lucius had been present that night in the graveyard.

Just because the Malfoys had changed didn't mean the past hadn't happened.

Neville shrugged. "Sirius talked to him a bit. It's a basic cleansing ritual, so I think more than anything he's concerned that we'll all be naked."

Hermione's eyes went wide. Draco smirked, and Neville laughed.

"Yeah, I think that was about his reaction too."

"But… but…" Hermione sputtered. "Why?"

Neville shrugged. "Robes interfere with a lot of ritual magic-especially cleansing magics. It's nothing new, Hermione; we all went to boarding school for seven years. Seeing each other naked is not a big deal." He looked long at her. "Aren't the girls' showers group showers?"

Hermione blushed. "I always got up much earlier than everyone else, so no one was ever in there with me."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Lord, and I bet you thought your roommates were just really good friends too."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Neville blushed and looked away, but Draco held her gaze. "Granger. Group showers. Group dorms. Pubescent, experimental, horomonal teenagers. You're the brightest witch of our age."

Hermione was sure her face was on fire. "No way. Lavender dated Ron sixth year! Parvati went to the Yule Ball with Harry!"

Draco shrugged. "And I took Pansy. Hell, I was engaged to Astoria."

Her eyes went wide. "What?"

He shrugged. "Most boys in school-well, at least the pure-bloods-experimented at one point or another. I'm attracted to both witches and wizards, though I knew my responsibilities lay with carrying on the Malfoy line. More often than not relationships between same-sex partners are kept hush-hush. See: Brown and Patil."

"Did you…"

He nodded. "Adrian Pucey, third year. Then Blaise, off and on when I wasn't dating Pansy, until sixth year. Although I wouldn't classify Blaise as a 'relationship.'"

She just looked at Neville, who was still blushing and steadily avoiding her gaze.

"Neville?"

"Seamus, while Dean was dating Ginny," he admitted quietly. "He was head over heels for Dean, even then, so I knew it wasn't anything serious, but I was just glad someone was willing to give me the time of day."

Hermione's head was about to explode, but Neville's words made her heart hurt.

"You're telling me that as close as Potter and Weasley were…" Draco tapered off, looking at Hermione with questioning eyes.

"No! Of course not!" Although, now that she thought about it, would she even know? She would've never guessed about Neville, or Lavender and Parvati, and she had shared a dorm with them for seven years.

Now that she thought about it, there were a number of nights the two girls had disappeared behind Lavender's curtains giggling. Hermione had assumed they were gossiping.

"Wait, wait, wait. So if the Procreation Act is solving the problem of heirs, why aren't there more wizards getting together?"

Draco shrugged. "Most of us have been raised to think we had to get married to have heirs—a proper wife and family. It takes a lot to throw out a lifetime of inculturation."

Neville nodded. "I went from Seamus to Hannah, so it's not like I have a lot of experience either way. Anyway, it's not like I'm ready to get out there and give it the old Hogwarts try."

Hermione set her teacup on the table and stood. "I just... I mean... Honestly!" She threw up her arms and all but stomped back into Neville's bedroom to change back into her teaching robes.

Draco chuckled.

"You think she's mad she never picked up on Lavender and Parvati?" Neville asked.

Draco nodded. "She prides herself on knowing everything, but there's this huge part of Hogwarts social dynamics she completely missed."

Neville glanced toward his door. "Do you think it will change things with us?"

In the other room, Hermione was slipping out of her sweats. It was a cold day outside, and the chill had made its way into the castle.

That was good, because she was on fire imaging Draco in the embrace of pretty Adrian Pucey, or Neville kissing the mouthy Irish Gryffindor. She just hoped she could get herself under control before her meeting with Master Blishen that afternoon.


	20. Chapter 20

_Quick check-in with our plague survivors. After two weeks of 10-12 hour days, plus parenthood, I'm wrecked. But we should be back to our regularly-scheduled programming next weekend._

 _We're walking a line now between sex and feelings, and given the weird-ass situation I've thrown these characters into, I expect it to be a bumpy ride._

 _As always, your thoughts and feedback are appreciated! Thanks for reading! xx_

* * *

 _March 2nd, 1999  
_ _Malfoy Manor_

The seven wizards gathered in the center of the Malfoy Manor grounds wore a variety of faces. Lucius and Severus were, as usual, totally calm and collected. They were going over the ritual one last time with Draco, who looked slightly more nervous for his role in leading the ritual.

Theo stood next to Neville Longbottom, and the two were chatting amicably about unimportant things. Neville had asked about Theo's work as a curse-breaker at Gringotts, and Theo in turn had asked how things were going with Neville's Mastery. The two were close to Severus and the Malfoys, but not so close as to interfere with their review of the ritual.

Harry and Sirius stood apart from the other five. Sirius looked bored, but Harry looked terrified. Given that he was the only non-pureblood, and that he had been raised in a Muggle home, ritual magic was an aspect of the wizarding world he had no familiarity with. The fact that he was about to be naked with the six men around him didn't do much to calm him.

It could have been worse, Harry thought. After their review of the ritual that weekend, Sirius had given him a crash course in ritual magics—including sex rituals.

That would have been much worse.

"We're ready to begin," announced Lucius.

The men moved into a wide circle. In the center was a large, clear crystal.

Draco caught his father's eye; at an imperceptible nod, both Malfoy men dropped their robes. The remaining men quickly followed suit. The three older men looked completely at ease in their nudity; the younger men studiously avoided each others' gazes. Harry looked just past Draco's head and kept his gaze there for the entire ritual. Theo attempted the bored look of the older men, but his discomfort showed in the tension of his shoulders and calves.

Draco did not look at Neville's tall, muscular frame, or his tan lines from working in the garden, though the Gryffindor drew his awareness more than it probably should have, given the importance of the ritual. After a few deep breaths to clear his mind, he picked up a sage smudge and wandlessly lit one end.

"I open this circle to cleanse. We ask the blessing of Magic as we endeavor to cleanse this land, cleanse this home, and cleanse this family. We come pure in our hearts and honorable in our intentions. We seek to eradicate dark magic, so that those who inhabit this domain after us will not suffer the sins of those who came before. We ask the blessing of Magic in our endeavors to cleanse this land."

He passed the sage to his right. Lucius took the smudge from his son.

With the smudge, Lucius drew _Othala_ in the air. "For our land, the land of our fathers, and the land of our sons. For the seat of our birth and our heritage. For that which is truly important. We ask the blessing of Magic in our endeavors to cleanse this land."

Severus took the smudge and drew _Ingwaz_. "For the family that makes their home on this land. For the warmth, love, and strength that bind a family together. We ask the blessing of Magic in our endeavors to cleanse this land."

The crystal lost some of its gleam, and became a dull, smokey white.

"For the children who are to come and the new beginnings they will bring," said Neville, drawing _Berkano_ with the smudge. He briefly made eye contact with Draco, thinking of the blond's son currently occupying Hermione's womb. He kept his eyes on Draco's, pushing down thoughts of the blond's pale skin and svelte build. "For the growth of this family, both as individuals and together. We ask the blessing of Magic in our endeavors to cleanse this land."

The crystal began to look more cream. Harry rocked up on the balls of his feet and picked them up one at a time, uncomfortable with the pull to the land he felt in his legs.

Theo took the smudge and drew _Eihwaz._ "For the protection of this family. For the sense of purpose that will direct them and their descendants in service to the magical world. We ask the blessing of Magic in our endeavors to cleanse this land."

The crystal darkened significantly. Severus and Lucius both glared at the crystal, clearly upset at how much darkness it had already absorbed, at just over halfway through the ritual.

Sirius took the smudge from Theo. He breathed the sage deep, and drew _Wunjo_ in the air. "For the joy and comfort a home should bring. For the fellowship family provides, and the pleasure of kindred souls. We ask the blessing of Magic in our endeavors to cleanse this land."

Darkness flowed through the crystal like smoke and emitted and dull purple glow.

"For the defense of this family and its home," said Harry, drawing _Algiz_. "For the continued focus on the highest ideals of magical life—the defense of oneself and others. We ask the blessing of Magic in our endeavors to cleanse this land."

The circle was vibrating with energy, the crystal barely containing the magic the men had pulled from the Malfoy property. Draco would give the final invocation and then close the circle. He drew _Dagaz_ with the last remains of the smudge.

"For our happiness now, our hope for the future and our family. For clarity and purity in purpose. For the transformation of this land from something dark to something pure and ideal. We ask the blessing of Magic in our endeavors to cleanse this land."

Even the crystal was vibrating now, and the purple glow had long since become so dark it was black.

Draco took the athame Lucius had given him earlier that day and made a small slit in his palm. He held it over the smudge and squeezed, the final offering—a blood offering—in the cleansing ritual.

"I close this circle with a blood offering of this family, bound to this land. We ask the blessing of Magic in our endeavors to cleanse this land."

The moment Draco closed the ritual, Lucius and Severus sent the strongest _Evanesco_ they could to the center of the circle. The crystal, imbued with all the dark magic it could hold, vanished, and the backlash of energy sent a shock through the circle of men. The slow draw of the dark had crept up on them during the ritual, and its immediate disappearance felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted off their shoulders. Each man's face brightened and breathed deep, a pressure on their lungs they hadn't realized was there lifted.

The relief was so profound that the younger members of the circle completely forgot their nudity—at least until they noticed the older members stoop to pick up their robes. The young men quickly followed suit. Harry's blush reached his eyebrows.

Once Draco's robe was back on, he stared at the space in the circle where the crystal had been.

Lucius glanced at his son and then looked at Severus. "That was… unexpected."

Severus nodded once. "I would recommend another ritual, in case the crystal couldn't absorb all the latent dark magic. The same ritual should suffice, if we can all make it for the next new moon."

A quick survey of the men indicated that would work.

Draco made his way to Harry and Sirius before they could leave. "Black, Potter, I wanted to say thank you participating."

Harry's eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to figure out Malfoy's angle, but he nodded once. The two men turned to make their way to the Manor to Floo home.

Draco watched them leave, but he felt Neville's presence behind him. "Give him time. It was only a year ago he was here under very different circumstances." Neville put his hand on the blond's shoulder, his voice quiet so only the two of them could hear his low tone. "We have the rest of our lives to figure out how to be family."

* * *

 _March 29th, 1999  
_ _Daily Prophet_

 _POST-PLAGUE PREGNANCIES!_

 _All signs point to healthy babies_

 _by Andy Smudgley_

 _According to the Ministry, all five witches who were given initial experimental doses of the plague antidote have become pregnant under the Procreation Act. The Act, which was ratified by the Wizengamot in November last year in response to a population crises, requires all fertile witches to conceive children with a group of men over the next decade._

 _Of the witches who have conceived, two—sisters Natalie and Victoria Frobisher—are carrying female children. As the Pure-blood Plague targeted witches specifically, their pregnancies have been heavily monitored._

 _"The Frobisher sisters have not shown any signs of pregnancy complications, and all of our medical scans show healthy fetuses developing at an appropriate rate," said Healer Franklin MacMillan. Healer MacMillan was on the initial response team for the plague, but has since been promoted to Head Healer, focusing specifically on post-plague medical issues, including post-plague pregnancies._

 _"The first trimester is an important time in fetal development, and lots of issues can arise—not just issues stemming from the plague. We are pleased to say all the witches have now entered their second trimester with no complications. We will continue monitoring the Frobisher sisters closely, but as of now we can confidently say the antidote is working as expected."_

 _Three other witches—Penelope Clearwater, Hermione Granger, and Tabitha McDonald—are carrying male children and are also showing no signs of complications from the antidote._

 _"According to my Healers and my own research, I'm experiencing a standard magical pregnancy," reported Hermione Granger._

 _Also pregnant is Katherine Bell, who is dating George Weasley, son of the Minister of Magic. Ms. Bell's pregnancy occurred before the plague antidote was administered. She is expecting a son, and her pregnancy is proceeding normally._

 _"It was a shock to discover I was pregnant," Ms. Bell admitted, "but we are thrilled and thankful that the baby is healthy."_

 _The Ministry will start distributing the antidote to all fertile witches on April 1. All fertile witches are recommended to go on fertility treatments before attempting conception. Those treatments can be obtained at St. Mungo's for no cost._

 _Procreation groups may also begin petitioning for mild lust potions through St. Mungo's, if necessary._

* * *

 _April 9th, 1999  
_ _Malfoy Manor_

Hermione had finally kicked the exhaustion phase of her pregnancy, though she still took advantage of Neville's chambers every so often. Her nausea had also subsided, and she found herself with the occasional craving for steak, dolmas, and mint chocolate chip ice cream—though thankfully not all at the same time.

Her big problem with pregnancy now was one she had not expected—she was constantly aroused. It seemed the littlest thing would get her going: Draco holding her hand in the morning when they Flood to Hogwarts, Neville smiling at her over lunch, Sirius playing patty-cake with Teddy. One singularly uncomfortable dinner listening to Severus, whose deep baritone had simply been recounting stories from the apothecary, had left her needing to change her knickers simply at the sound of his voice.

Frustrated didn't begin to cover her state of being. She had taken to going to bed early, still citing exhaustion, and then spending an hour masturbating in her bathtub. More often than not, her thoughts would drift to her conversation a month earlier with Draco and Neville. She had fantasized about Draco with Adrian and Neville with Seamus, but very quickly her fantasies began to play out in different ways: walking in on Draco and Theo in the Malfoy library after a dinner party, Neville and Ron taking her in the greenhouses, Severus and Sirius hate-fucking in the kitchen at Grimmauld.

Harry had made a few cameos in her fantasies, but she always felt distinctly gross after those—incestuous, even—so she had started consciously directing her thoughts elsewhere.

It was times like these she missed Ginny. Not because of the Harry fantasies—that would be awkward—but because she needed a girlfriend to make light of the situation.

She was still nervous to bring up too much about her pregnancy with Daphne. Their friendship was new, but she knew the Slytherin was still reeling from her new, infertile status. She was polite in asking about Hermione's health, and admitted she was excited to have _someone_ for whom to buy baby clothes, but confided her frustrations and anger at her own situation just as often. Hermione tried to rein in the baby talk as best she could.

Katie was a kindred spirit, but she was certainly not suffering from the same frustrations as Hermione. According to the former Chaser, her sex life had never been better. Fred had taken to knocking on his own front door before he came home, as Katie's insatiability had created one too many awkward moments in the twins' living room.

"Hermione?"

The witch looked up from the book she'd been trying to read in the library. It was late, and the fire at burned low. The tea she'd been absently stirring had gone cold.

Draco was standing to her side, looking down. His light hair was in his eyes, but it looked darker in the firelight. He had long lost his teaching robes, and was in just shirtsleeves, rolled to his elbows.

"It's nearly midnight."

She groaned. "I lost track of time."

He gently closed her book and took her hand, helping her out of the chair. Her thin shirt stretched over her stomach, and Draco's eyes were drawn to the small bump there. His hand moved to hover near her midsection.

"May I?"

She smiled and nodded. His hand rested on her abdomen. "There's a baby in there."

"Technically, it's a fetus."

He scowled at her and dropped to his knees. "Don't listen to her, Scorpius," Draco said to Hermione's belly. "Your Mum knows a lot of things, but sometimes even she can be wrong. You're going to be the most perfect baby in the world."

Hermione had tears at the corner of her eyes, but managed to keep her emotions in check—no small feat at this point in her pregnancy. "No pressure, huh?"

Draco ignored her. "I can't wait to meet you."

The blond wizard rose and offered Hermione his arm. "It's been some time since you've been up this late. Is the exhaustion getting better?"

She nodded. She was desperately trying not to think about how mussed he looked, and how she wished _she_ was responsible for that look. She held his arm lightly, knowing this was simply breeding and good manners, not a moment of intimacy or, more along the lines of her thinking, simmering sexual intimacy that would lead to one of their two bedrooms.

"Good. You shouldn't push yourself too hard, Hermione. I know you want to get your Mastery as soon as you can, but I need you to take care of Scorpius, which means taking care of yourself."

They walked in silence toward Hermione's rooms. A million scenarios went through her mind of how to get him inside. The throbbing between her legs was consuming her thoughts, and it took all of her willpower not to throw Draco against a wall and song him senseless.

And then they were at her door, and he was giving her a slight bow, and he was smiling his smile and politely wishing her goodnight, and he was walking away.


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: Sooo..._

 _Nope. Not gonna say anything. No preface, nothing. Just read and review please._

 _And, as always, thanks for reading my silly little story. xx_

* * *

 _April 23rd, 1999  
_ _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

"What's it like?"

Neville and Draco were in the former Gryffindor's chambers, sipping a glass of Ogden's. It had been a long day—the first really nice day of spring, plus a Hogsmeade visit that weekend, had left the students treating Friday classes like a circus. Neville, a fairly permissive instructor, had issued four detentions over the course of the day, and Draco had to channel his inner-Severus-Snape to keep his first years in line. The men had decided to end their day with a celebratory drink: Draco was thankful he'd be Flooing away from the school for the weekend, Neville was grateful he hadn't drawn Homemade duty, and both were glad they'd simply survived the day.

Draco raised his eyebrow at the question, silently asking for more. Neville had been quieter than normal the past week; Draco had noticed the man's reticence toward Hermione more than anything. Normally, vibrant conversation flowed between the two at lunch, but recently the two had become more withdrawn, though still amicable, with each other. His Slytherin nature had taken the information and filed it away.

Neville stared at his glass, avoiding eye contact with Draco. "I mean, what's it like seeing Hermione pregnant. Knowing you're about to be a dad?"

Draco sighed. "I'm not particularly good with talking about my feelings, Longbottom." He sneered. "I'm not a Gryffindor."

Neville rollled his eyes. "Give it a try, Malfoy. It won't kill you."

The blond looked at his tumbler and shot back the rest of his firewhisky. "Incredible. Fascinating. Terrifying. Upsetting."

Neville waited, hoping that an explanation would come.

"You know what it means to carry on the family name. I'm sure you've had that drilled into you same as I have. But the pressure my whole life to be perfect—to be a Malfoy—has been… intense. Father was bad, but Mother was worse. She was a daughter of a Black and a Rosier, and she was doted on by Sirius's mother, Walburga. I've been bred with expectations of perfection. Pure-blood perfection.

"So I'm torn. Hermione carries real evidence of the continuation of the Malfoy line, despite the plague. A male heir, no less. And I know how lucky I am that I was matched with Hermione—I really do. But there's a never-ending whisper in my brain that reminds me she's not a pure-blood, that she's not good enough."

Neville looked hard at the blond. "That's rubbish."

"I know," spat Draco. "But it's there. I can't pretend it's not. And I hate that I already feel that way about her, because what if I feel that way about my son? What if…" Draco stopped, feeling too much emotion rising in his voice. He poured another glass, taking time to calm himself.

"Do you remember when we told Hermione about sleeping with other guys at Hogwarts?" Neville nodded. "When I was with Pansy, it was like there was a constant pressure to be Draco Malfoy, pure-blood prince. It was… a performance. And when I was with Adrian, I was just Draco. There was something real about it, precisely because we knew it could never _be_ real.

"And now there's no possibility of being that pure-blood prince. So who am I now? What does it mean to be a Malfoy anymore? And if I can't answer those questions, how can I raise my son?"

Neville looked long at the blond. He knew what it meant that Draco had opened up like that to him.

Then, to his surprise, Draco continued.

"And Hermione—Merlin, she's so lovely. There's really something primal about seeing a woman carrying your child. And it's unfair to her, given this situation, but I want her constantly. And I can't tell if it's real feelings, or gratitude toward her for being the mother of my child, or simple lust because it's been so damn long. And if it is feelings—real feelings—what the fuck am I going to do when she has to have your kid? Or my father's? Or Potter's?" His trademark sneer came out with the last question. "I'm a possessive bastard, Longbottom. Always have been. Only child, and all that."

Neville nodded. "You forget I am one too. And yeah, I get being possessive. But you know what I remember most from growing up?"

Draco was silent, staring into the fire in the parlor.

"Loneliness. I was so goddamn lonely all the time. Gran never took me to see anyone—she was scared we'd be attacked and I'd be killed or, worse, end up like my Mum and Dad. And now here I am, alone—no Gran, no Hannah, not even my mum. Dad is still in St. Mungo's and my best friend is off hunting Snorkacks and I don't know if I'll ever get to see her again. But, wonder of wonders, I now have some small, incredibly dysfunctional family made up of Hermione, Harry, Sirius, your dad, and you.

"I'm not sure what our family is, or how it will work. If you'd asked me a year ago whether we'd be sharing a firewhisky together I'd have laughed my ass off. But here we are, and I'm not letting it go. And if that means learning how to share the mother of my children with you and everyone else, so be it."

Draco shook his head. "I don't get it, Longbottom. You have every reason to hate me—at least as much reason as Potter. But, as you say, here we are."

Neville shrugged. "I'm tired of fighting and being angry all the bloody time. I've gathered that you're mostly tired of being a dick. Friendships have been based on less."

"Is that what we are? Friends?" Draco turned to look at Neville. There was a slight flush on his face from the heat of the fire and the burn of the whisky. His eyes looked darker, more like Sirius's, in the light.

Neville looked back at him, brown eyes into grey. Here was the Hero of Hogwarts, the brave Gryffindor. His demeanor was so calm a Slytherin would be proud. He sipped the last of his firewhisky and set down his glass, hoping Draco would understand what he was offering.

"I think I'd like to get to know the _real_ Draco Malfoy."

* * *

 _April 25th, 1999  
_ _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Teddy! Happy Birthday to you!"

Hermione set down the small cake in front of the birthday boy, who seemed more interested in sticking his hands in the cake than blowing out the single candle she'd lit on it.

Sirius swept in and quickly blew it out. Hermione frowned at the man, but he smiled smugly. "It was a fire hazard. Look at me, all responsible."

She rolled her eyes and pushed the cake toward him. "Well, go be responsible some more and cut the cake for the guests." She took a wet rag to Teddy's hands, now covered in chocolate icing. "Just like your father…" she muttered as the child shoved his chocolate-covered hands into his mouth.

She turned to the room, surveying those who had joined them for Teddy's birthday. Harry and Sirius, of course, but also Neville, Draco, and Lucius. The Weasleys had come as well, and Hermione had given Ron and Draco explicit instructions to avoid each other for the duration of the party. Katie and Becca accompanied the Weasleys, Katie six months pregnant and glowing.

Daphne, who had just arrived, stood off to the side near Draco, her discomfort evident by how straight she stood and how high she held her chin. The blonde witch had taken a job with the Procreation Department, in a counselor-type position. She had a case-load of fifteen groups with whom she met regularly, charting their compliance with the law and their relationship with each other. She'd owled Hermione earlier, citing a work issue, and told her she'd arrive late to the party.

"I'm glad you could come, Daph," Hermione said, approaching her friend warmly. "It's nice to have you here."

Daphne smiled at the curly haired witch, who was wearing jeans and a black wool jumper. She wasn't used to parties being so casual, but she was glad she'd taken Draco's advice and worn a simple set of casual robes, rather than the standard pure-blood party attire.

"Thank you for the invitation. It's nice to be celebrating something again." She smiled, her eyes drawn to the child of the day. Teddy's hair was changing colors constantly, depending on who was holding him. Harry had dropped in front of the boy to finish cleaning his chocolate-covered hands and occupy him until a small piece of cake arrived, so Teddy's hair was a messy, dark mop.

Hermione dropped her gaze to the small bag in Daphne's hand. "Oh, we did presents earlier. Why don't you go give it to Teddy while Harry finishes cleaning him? It will be a good distraction until his piece of cake arrives."

Hermione turned to mingle with a throng of Weasleys, so Daphne made her way to the birthday boy. "Potter," she said loftily, to announce her presence.

He glanced up and his eyes widened. "Greengrass. What are you doing here?"

She pursed her lips. "I was invited." She waited a beat. "I brought a present for Teddy. I understand he opened his others earlier."

Teddy clapped and reached for the bag, and Harry had the good grace to blush. "I didn't mean… I… of course." He stepped back from the baby, and Daphne deposited the bag sideways on the high chair so Teddy could reach in for his gift.

"Happy Birthday Teddy," she smiled at the boy. She knelt down and helped him reaching the bag.

He pulled out a small, stuffed Welsh Green, and his eyes became as big as saucers!

"Bah!" he exclaimed.

"That's a Welsh Green," Daphne said seriously to the child. "It's one of two dragons that come from Britain, where we live. Would you like to see it fly?" She withdrew her wand, and with a muttered spell the dragon was flying in low circles around Teddy, who was smiling from ear to ear and reaching for the plush reptile.

"That's fantastic," breathed Harry, as he too watched the toy circle around. " _Wingardium Leviosa_?" he asked absently.

Daphne shook her head. "No. It's an enchanted toy. It does a variety of things based on a set of incantations that come with it. The instruction manual for parents is inside the bag."

"I've never seen anything like it," Harry said, finally looking away from the toy to the witch.

She shrugged. "They're very popular in the small wizarding village near the reserve in Wales. My mother"—she paused for a deep breath— "had family there, so we visited occasionally. Astoria and I loved seeing them in a storefront, but Father never bought us one. It seemed like the kind of toy a little boy could enjoy now and in the future."

"It's brilliant," Harry said seriously. "I bought him a broom because, well, that's what Sirius apparently bought me for my first birthday. Molly knit him a sweater, Hermione bought him books, and we can't in good conscience feed him the candy most everyone else brought him." He smiled sincerely at the witch. "You might have given him the second-best gift of the day."

She nodded. "I wouldn't pretend to compete with a wizard's first broom." She smiled at him, and then sobered a bit. "How are you doing?"

Harry cocked his head. "What?"

She gestured to Teddy. "I mean, how have you been, looking after Teddy. I can't imagine it's been easy."

Harry paused, knowing that Daphne had only narrowly escape the plague. "Awesome and terrifying. I mean, I have no idea what I'm doing most of the time, but thankfully Hermione and Sirius are around to keep me in line and Teddy alive." He smiled at the boy and ruffled the dark hair as Teddy clapped after the dragon. "But believe me when I say there's no better kid than Teddy."

She smiled. "I think Draco might have something to say about that in a few months."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe, but we'll see whose laughing when Teddy flies circles around little Scorpius."

Sirius interrupted by way of cake, slipping a piece to Teddy before depositing one in Harry and then Daphne's hand. "Chocolate cake, chocolate icing. Keep an eye on Teddy so he doesn't…"

A quick glance toward Teddy indicated that the small child had already covered himself in his tiny portion of cake.

"…just keep an eye on Teddy, right?" And then the older wizard was gone to continue his host duties of passing around Hermione's chocolate masterpiece.

Harry glanced at the small child, now reaching for the flying dragon with cake- and icing-covered hands, and sighed.

"Why don't we eat this, and you can show me the incantations for your gift?"

She smiled and took a seat next to him.

* * *

Hermione turned off the faucet and surveyed her work. "Done!"

It was late, and she needed to get back to the townhouse and prepare her work for her Mastery that week, but she also wanted to make sure she left Grimmauld pristine after the party. She had just finished drying her last dish; somethings really were better done the Muggle way. Harry was upstairs getting Teddy to bed after an evening of sugar-induced screaming, and Sirius was saying goodbye to the last of the guests, gently ribbing George about his impending fatherhood as the twins finished a glass of firewhisky with one of their heroes.

She felt the evening had been successful: Teddy had a wonderful birthday, Ron and Draco's tension never escalated beyond distant glares and scoffs, and she hadn't needed to change her knickers once. That last one was a great feat, she thought, considering how delectable all the wizards at the party looked.

It wasn't just the sexiness that the wizards eluded, though there was definitely that. It was the three glasses of water Draco brought her without having to ask; the way Neville pulled out her chair when she started getting a bit tired; the way Sirius grinned at her while holding Teddy in his arms, the boy's coloring shifting to match the Animagus's; she even found herself panting after George, who constantly snuck gentle touches of Katie's belly when he thought no one was watching.

It was really too much, she thought, but her knickers had withstood nonetheless.

"Hey Kitten."

Hermione turned and found Sirius standing in the doorway, empty tumblers in hand. He smiled at her, slightly glassy-eyed from the firewhisky, and sat at the table. "Some party, yeah?"

She returned his smile. "I think Teddy had a lovely time. It was nice to see so many people there for him."

Sirius nodded. "And next year, we'll have at least two more little ones to celebrate." He eyed her midsection, his grey eyes darkening slightly. "You know, you could've left that work for someone who wasn't supposed to stay off their feet?"

She shrugged. "It wasn't that bad. And this one has, thankfully, given me a pretty mild pregnancy."

Well, she thought, except for the constant wet between my legs.

"Mmm," the wizard hummed. "And how is Draco?"

"He's good. Excited to be a father. He seems happy at Hogwarts, and it sounds like his Mastery work is going well."

Sirius eyed her with an inscrutable look. "And how are _you_ and Draco?"

She furrowed her brow. "Fine. I mean, it's weird, having a baby together, but we knew it would be."

He shook his head, seemingly disappointed. "Hermione… you can tell me, you know. It's probably best if you tell all of us."

"Tell you what?" She took a seat next to Sirius, a look of confusion evident on her face. "Sirius, what are you talking about?"

"The two of you… being together. After your speech last winter about honesty and openness regarding relationships, don't you think it's only fair that you tell the rest of us?"

Being raised in a pure-blood Slytherin household, Sirius could act aloof in ways that rivaled Lucius. But Hermione spent enough time with wizard to note his tells: the way his right ring finger would tap his thigh when he was anxious, the way his eyes would dark to the left when he was nervous, the way he would cross his left ankle at his right knee to emphasize a distance from someone. All tells he was employing now.

He didn't want to be asking Hermione about Draco. But given her speech when they all met in November, she understood why he broached the subject.

Now she just had to figure out how he had gotten there.

"Sirius, Draco and I aren't seeing each other. I live at the townhouse as per our agreement regarding child-rearing, but we haven't been _together_ since Yule."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Hermione, I'm not an idiot."

"I know," she responded shortly. "Which is why I'm struggling to figure out how you've come to the conclusion you have."

He breathed deep. "I can _smell_ you, Hermione." He brought his eyes up to her. "I can smell you all the bloody time. No one smells like that as often as you do and is not having sex."

Her face flushed so deep she was sure she would spontaneously combust.

"Sirius…"

He looked away from her. "For fuck's sake, Hermione, I don't know how you get anything done, as much shagging as you two must do."

The flush didn't go away, but her embarrassment was dissolving quickly to anger.

"First of all, Sirius Black, I will thank you to not make assumptions about my sex life. Second, I am most certainly not shagging anyone, including Draco Malfoy—at least, not since Yule. And thirdly, if you must know, plenty of pregnant women go through a period of significantly-heightened arousal in their second trimester. I am in no ways some anomaly or freak, thank you very much. Getting through this has been hard enough without you making spurious assumptions about my sex life! Don't you have more faith in me to be honest with you—and everyone else for that matter—when it comes to this situation?"

At some point during her diatribe, she must have lost Sirius, because he didn't respond to her final question. Instead, he stared hard at her.

"You mean, you're just like the all the time? You've bee like this for bloody weeks!"

"I'm damn well aware of that!" she yelled. Then she lowered her voice, realizing Harry was still upstairs with a fussy Teddy. "I'm dealing with it."

The corners of his mouth turned up just slightly. "Dealing how?"

And back came the embarrassment. "The normal way, I guess." She averted her eyes.

His glassy eyes darkened further. "And just what are you thinking about when you 'deal with it,' Kitten?"

She huffed. "I don't have to explain this to you. I've told you nothing is going on with me and Draco—or me and anyone else for that matter—so let's just drop it."

She moved to stand, but Sirius's hand darted out to her thigh and stilled her.

"I'm sorry, Kitten. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

She could hear the sincerity in his voice, which calmed her anger.

But not her tension. His voice was deep, and slightly breathy. Hermione forced herself not to think about the way his collarbone _just_ peeked through his charcoal t-shirt, or the way that shirt matched his increasingly darkening eyes. She most certainly didn't allow herself to think about the hand her knee, or the tattoos that decorated his forearm, bared to his elbows with rolled shirt sleeves.

She focused on breathing—keeping calm, not letting Sirius see how affected she was.

Not that she could do anything about the dampness between her legs. She _definitely_ need to change her knickers now.

If Sirius could smell her now, he didn't let on.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked Draco to help you out," the older wizard said, gazing at her with a gleam in his eye. "Or Harry, if you're concerned about Draco. Or Neville, for that matter."

The omission of his name did not go unnoticed by her.

And then she was back to feeling three inches tall. Unwanted, except for her baby-making abilities. Doomed to be a perpetual mother without the companionship or intimacy of a lover. Sirius was emblematic of the silence that had plagued her since no one had volunteered to be with her in November-they didn't want her then, and, as he made abundantly clear, they didn't want her now.

Her shoulders shrugged, and she closed in on herself.

"I can take care of myself. I don't want to force… I mean, I understand everyone got stuck with me, and…"

"Hey." Sirius reached out, hand still on her thigh, and took her chin with his other hand. He lifted her face so her eyes met his. "Don't you dare. That's the future mother of my children, and the most beautiful and bright witch I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Don't you dare disparage her. Any of her wizards would be lucky to help her 'deal with her problem.'" He offered her a genuine smile, though his eyes were blazing.

Even she couldn't miss that look.

"Really?" she asked, in a whisper.

He nodded. "Really."

And for one second, it was quiet. His hands were still at her face and thigh, and her gaze was caught in his. And she didn't see any pity or loathing or a look of obligation or resignation. She saw…

"Oh, sod it all," she said, before throwing her arms around Sirius's neck, her lips crashing into his.


	22. Chapter 22

_A/N: It looks like 1999 will be complete by Chapter 30-35, depending on how smutty we get between now and then. I'm still working on the smut (no one tells you how hard it is, particularly if you want to escape the 'Reginald's quivering member' cliches)._

 _I'll be honest-I struggled with the Sirius scene a lot, so your thoughts and suggestions (aka reviews) would be much appreciated._

 _As always, thanks for reading! xx_

* * *

 _April 25th, 1999  
_ _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

Sirius groaned as Hermione made contact, welcoming her frantic lips with his own. His hand, which had been on her thigh, snaked around to the back of her leg, rubbing the denim right where her leg met her backside. His other hand snaked around her neck, cupping the back of her head as he leaned into her kiss.

She could taste the firewhisky still on his lips as her tongue fought for entrance to his mouth. It was a fight he was more than willing to lose, and he let her take what she needed from him. His mouth, his tongue, his hands mirrored hers, roaming and reveling in taste of salt and liquor and chocolate.

He pulled back a nipped her neck, immediately laving his tongue in the spot after. She moaned at that, and he pulled her hovering body down on his, so that her legs were straddling him. His hands moved to the small of her back and worked their way under the hem of her jumper. Her skin was soft and taut, and his fingertips ghosted on the space where her spine met her hips.

"Gods, Sirius…" she moaned into his dark, wavy hair as he sucked hard below her ear.

She was on fire. The growing dampness between her legs was going to spontaneously combust, and she would go up in a flame of sexual need, she was sure of it. Sirius began digging his fingertips into her back, pulling her to him, eradicating any space between the two.

She rolled her hips, and he bucked up to meet them, the crotch of his trousers strained tight and pressing into her core.

"Oh gods…" she breathed in his ear, and she felt him shudder at the warmth of her breath.

His kisses moved up her neck to her ear. "Let me give you what you need, kitten," he whispered heavily. As he went to suck her ear, his hands came around to undo the button at her trousers.

"Harry…" she whispered.

"… is still up with the cub, whose very fussy." He pulled back and grinned at her. "Canine smell, canine hearing. Teddy's cries are quite high pitched. Now," he said, he eyes, trailing up and down her torso, coming to rest at her chest, "let me take care of you."

He pushed her up to a standing position and guided her back to the wall. His mouth was on hers, and she groaned at his taste, the feel of his tongue teasing her own, the smell of leather and whisky.

He peeled her denim trousers over her rear and to her knees, leaving sopping red knickers in their wake. His hands slid back up her thighs, one wrapping around her waist and the other trailing up the cloth covering her slit.

"Oh kitten," Sirius breathed as his finger slid up and down the slick fabric. He traced up and down a few times before pushing his face forward into her heat. Hermione moaned at the sensation of his nose rubbing her clit, inhaling her scent. "You smell divine."

She could only whimper in response when he took two of his fingers under the cloth and pushed gently into her.

As his fingers worked into her, his breath still against her mound, she could feel the tension seeping from her neck, her shoulders, her torso, down to her bloody toes. As much as she touched herself, as often as she brought herself off, there was no substitute for this—the surprise of a particular tough, the feel of someone else mouth, the uncoordinated fumbling of two new lovers discovering each other.

And when he finally— _finally!_ —peeled off her knickers, bringing them, along with her trousers, down to her ankles, and lathed his tongue against her core, she shuddered.

"Gods, Sirius, I'm so close…"

His tongue moved in gentle circles around her button, and she could feel the pressure mounting further. Moments later, after a few well-placed thrusts of his fingers, she came apart with a muffled moan.

Sirius slowed his ministrations, his fingers languidly coaxing her down from her peak. Her breathing slowed, her head sagged to one side, and her hands relaxed their grip on his hair. In a state of post-orgasmic bliss, she looked down at Sirius.

And saw her pregnant stomach.

And then it was back. The tension balling in her chest. Not sexual in nature, but emotional.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit." She felt her face flame, tears rise in her eyes. "Oh gods, Sirius, I'm so sorry…"

The dark hair man looked up at her, and she flushed at the shine on his chin from her arousal.

"What for?" His voice was still husky, his eyes still gleaming.

"I… I jumped you!" She looked away from him.

He barked out a laugh. "That you did."

She furrowed her brown and gestured to her stomach. "I'm pregnant."

He continued smiling. "That you are."

He stood, and she took the opportunity to quickly pull her bottoms back up and situated herself. She could see the protrusion of his cock in his trousers, but he made no move toward her.

"I shouldn't have taken advantage of you," she said. "Shit, Sirius, I can't… this is… fuck."

He narrowed his eyes slightly. "I told you I'd be happy to help you with your problem, kitten. Did I misunderstand what that problem was?"

She huffed. "No. But…"

"Was it not good? You seemed to indicate otherwise…"

She crossed her arms. "You know very well it was bloody fantastic, Sirius. And I feel great—better than I have in a while. But that doesn't mean it's right or OK. I mean… fuck, what was I thinking?" She threw herself back into the previously-vacated kitchen chair, and he sat down next to her. "What do we do now?"

Sirius cast a quick _Scourgify_ on his hands and face, and brought his hand to her curls. "What do you mean? We go to bed. You're more than welcome to join me in mine if you want." He waggled her eyebrows at her suggestively. "But I imagine this is more than you planned for tonight, so I won't be heartbroken if you go back to the townhouse to get some actual rest."

She looked at him gently. "Sirius, I can't… you know we can't do this."

His heart dropped a bit. Seeing her in the throws of passion—brought on by him—had been intoxicating. And Merlin knows his cock was about to break through his trousers if he didn't get some relief. But even he—reckless, impetuous, passionate Sirius Black—knew pushing things tonight would ruin them forever. Despite being six months into the Procreation Act, it was all very new for them. Plus, Hermione was right. She was carrying Draco Malfoy's child in that beautiful belly of hers.

But he smiled at her nonetheless. "I know, kitten. If there's anyone for you now, it should probably be little Malfoy, the prat." He brought his hand to her stomach. "But someday… someday this will be _my_ baby in there. _Our_ baby." He looked at her, wishing his eyes could tell her everything she wasn't ready to hear. "You know how I feel about parenthood, kitten. The only reason I'm coming around is because of you. Not just because you'll be the mother, but because of…"—he swallowed—"because of the faith you have in me."

She looked at his hand on her stomach and then slowly brought her eyes to his. "Do you like me?"

He laughed again. "Kitten, I love you. I'm not in love with you, but I could be, I think, very easily. I'm not now. Not yet." His hands continued caressing her curls and he grinned. "To be fair, if you don't want me in love with you we should probably make this a one off thing. I could too easily get addicted to your sweetness."

He licked his lips and she blushed furiously. He chuckled at her red cheeks.

"Now why don't you head back to the Malfoys. I know you're at Hogwarts tomorrow. You should get your rest—I've clearly knackered you out."

She glanced down at his crotch.

"I'm a big boy, Hermione, and I don't view orgasms as _quid pro quo_. Unless you're offering…?" He waggled his eyebrows, knowing it was best to make light of the situation rather than have her feel obligated.

She shook her head, blushed furiously, and then threw her arms onto the table. "It's times like this I wish I could have firewhisky!" she lamented.

He silently reached for the leftover cake that was still out on the table and pushed it toward her.

She peeked up from her arms. "No, it's OK. Surprise of surprises, this baby does not seem to have inherited his father's sweet tooth—at least, not yet."

He stood and helped her up from her seat. They walked to the Floo, Sirius seemingly completely at ease; Hermione, less so. She couldn't figure out what had happened. She'd been pleased as punch with the party, furious at Sirius's assumptions about her private life, orgasming against a while as the same man brought her off with his tongue, and now… now what?

When they reached the Floo Sirius withdrew his arm and took both her hands in his. He kissed her fingertips and then her cheek. "Thank you for a lovely evening, kitten." He grinned at her. "Everyone had a lovely time—especially me. Now stop overthinking everything and go rest."

She smiled at him and was gone.

Sirius watched the fireplace a second longer than normal, and then broke out into a mad grin. He stretched his hands over head head briefly, and then sauntered up to his room, whistling the whole way.

* * *

 _May 6th, 1999  
_ _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

"Hermione?" Neville knocked on the door to his chambers. "Are you in here?"

Hermione was curled up on a ball in the middle of his bed. She hadn't been sleeping—more resting—but it wasn't particularly relaxing. She was still reeling emotionally from Sunday's anniversary memorial.

Harry had been asked to speak at a large victory celebration—all three of the Golden Trio had been asked to speak—but they had declined. The pain of their losses was still too great to celebrate anything, even victory over Voldemort. Harry had explained his reasoning over dinner at the Burrow one night, and even Arthur Weasley had been disgusted with the way the Ministry PR Department wanted to co-opt the event into pro-Ministry propaganda that he had the whole event cancelled.

Minerva held a vigil in the Great Hall, inviting students but not requiring them to attend. She also invited the Order to come and pay their respects. Hermione had all but demanded the same invitation be extended to Lucius and Draco, to which Minerva begrudgingly agreed. After all they had been through over the year, all the losses everyone experienced, she was too tired to regulate who mourned what when.

And so Sunday morning, after breakfast, the Great Hall was cleared of tables. Levitating candles were lit, reminiscent of Hermione's First Year, when she walked into the hall for the first time. Benches faced the front, and a table of various offerings—candles, incense, dried herbs—were made available. There was a small bowl for offerings of gold and silver, and a small note indicated that those offerings would be put aside in a fund for post-war needs. In a show of solidarity, Harry, Hermione, and Ron had entered the room together. They made their way to the front, each taking a separate offering: Harry dropping gold coins in the bowl, Hermione lighting a candle, and Ron burning a stick of incense. Then, in unspoken agreement, they separated: Harry sat with Sirius and Teddy, Ron with his family, and Hermione made her way to where Lucius and Draco sat in a far corner, hoping to not be seen but needing to be there—needing the closure of mourning—nonetheless.

The whole week she'd had nightmares of Remus and Tonks, their cold bodies laying hand-in-hand; Lavender, who she'd failed to save from Greyback; and little Colin Creevey, who had looked so small in death. She'd dreamt of Bellatrix's exploding body, the way Dolohov fell under her own _Sectumsempra_ —a spell she'd sworn to never use and that had risen unbidden from her mouth when she saw the man—and that damn, headless snake.

Draco had come to her room Sunday and Monday night because of her screaming. Tuesday night, he simply showed up in his pajamas.

He shrugged at her. "We both know I'll end up here anyway. This saves me a trip."

She had slept better since then. Not great, but better.

She was still tired in the afternoons—thus, hiding in Neville's chambers, where she could cry away from the prying eyes of students and the judgmental gaze of Master Blishen, who was proving to have little sympathy for the emotional rollercoaster pregnancy was proving to be.

At the sound of Neville's voice, Hermione stretched. She pulled her shirt down over her still-growing stomach.

"Yeah Nev. Do you need the room?"

She made it to the door at the same time he opened it. He stepped aside, and Hermione found a distraught Becca behind him. The small Hufflepuff had tears streaming down her face, and while she wasn't making loud sobbing noises, the red of her face indicated she'd not been so together earlier.

Hermione pulled the girl into her arms without a second thought. She rubbed her back as the crying picked up again. Becca buried her face in Hermione's shoulder, and the curly-haired witch looked at Neville.

"What happened?" Her voice was quiet, but hard.

Neville shrugged. "We were in NEWT Herbology, and everything was fine. Class left, I picked up my notes and checked on my plants, and when I walked out of the greenhouse she was sitting next to the doors." He glanced at the tiny girl. "She was a lot worse then. I know you're friends, so I asked if she wanted to talk to you, and here we are."

He dropped his teaching gear on a nearby table. "Draco has a free period right now, so I'll go find him. You two take all the time you need."

Hermione steered Becca to the sofa and conjured a handkerchief for the girl.

"I'm so sorry for bothering you, Hermione…" Becca wiped her glasses with the cloth before blowing her nose.

"You're never a problem Becca. What happened?"

The girl took a few deep breaths, trying to get her breathing under control. "I'm pregnant."

"Oh." Hermione was rather confused at Becca's explanation. She knew the girl had gotten special dispensation to go to Brockloch at the end of April; her cycle hadn't lined up with Easter Break, and the MacMillans were anxious to secure Ernie's heir. Becca hadn't been a virgin—she'd had a relationship with a Muggle boy during the war, when she'd not returned to Hogwarts—but it was still something she'd needed to decompress from, and given that Katie was nowhere near Hogwarts Hermione had been her closest girlfriend.

Becca confided it hadn't been great, and Ernie's concern for her experience—or lack thereof—had solidified her desire to not have a relationship with the man.

The younger girl sniffed. "Apparently Ernie told Justin, who told Smith, so it got back to Susan…" The tears started flowing again. "After Herbology, she was walking with Megan—they knew I was right behind them—and she said she was thinking infertility was a blessing in disguise because who would want to be a Ministry whore raising a bunch of bastard children."

Hermione stiffened at that. She also knew it was a crock of shit, and that Susan was reeling from being the last Bones and having no heir to pass the title to. She was angry and bitter.

She was also, Hermione thought, being quite the bitch.

Becca looked at Hermione, her eyes slightly larger for her glasses. "Is that what we are, Hermione? A bunch of Muggle-born whores securing half-blood bastard heirs for men who wouldn't give us a second thought if pure-blood women could still have children?"

Yes, thought Hermione. We are. At the heart of it, at the bottom of it all, that's exactly what we are.

And it's all my fault.

Hermione hugged the girl again. "We are doing what no one else can, Becca. We—you, me, Katie—we're saving the magical world. It's not as glamorous as defeating a Dark Lord, but believe me, it's no less important." She pulled away and picked up the girl's chin. "Your baby is going to be so important to our world. All of your babies will be important. And someday, when you're surrounded by a gaggle of grandchildren and the Ministry is still around and Hogwarts hasn't closed and our world still exists, you'll be able to say 'I did that.'"

Becca smiled and then sighed. "Why does she have to be such a twat?"

Because she's jealous, Hermione thought. Because she's hurting and wants you to hurt too. Because Ernie MacMillan is a bastard and will probably regret burning that bridge.

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I don't know."

* * *

Neville's hands clenched around blond hair as he came with a groan.

"Fuck," he sighed.

Draco leisurely licked the brunette wizard clean, tucking Neville's cock back into his pants. "Feel better, Longbottom?"

Neville pulled Draco up and kissed him hard. His hand was firm around the back of Draco's head, the other gripping hard at his waist, and Draco felt like he was going to burst.

Then Neville palmed his erection, and Draco was all but sure of it.

"Feel hungry," Neville said, a glimmer in his eye, and he pushed Draco against the nearest wall and dropped to his knees.


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N: One of the things I love about FFN is the variety of relationship dynamics and ships we see: I know Dramione is huge, but Sirimione, Remione, Snamione (thanks to those of you who stuck around, even though Snape didn't make it as a romantic figure!), Harmony, etc. all bring me joy. It's great to read reviews and see the varied responses to the relationship dynamics at play here, but remember: you can make some of the people happy all of the time, all of the people happy some of the time, but you can't keep all of the people happy all of the time. I think, at this point, ObsessiveCompulsiveReading is closest to what I'm aiming for: "everybody do it!" But, you know, still as a slow burn._

 _(Want your smut quick and dirty? Head to AO3.)_

 _Also, I just hopped on QFLC as a permanent replacement, so I'll be writing with more frequent and immediate deadlines than_ Pax Matrum. _I still plan on updating once a week._

 _SassenachStarbuck: so glad someone picked up the 10TIHAY reference in my last A/N. Sometimes I totally feel like that woman: a little older, writing for fun, working on developing my smut-skills. I'm just missing the librarian glasses and the pussy mug._

 _As always, thanks for reading. Your feedback is so appreciated! xx_

* * *

 _June 11th, 1999  
_ _Quidditch Quality Supplies_

Hermione spread out Katie's sofa and fanned herself with a nearby copy of _The Prophet_. It was hotter than normal for mid-June, and Katie's apartment didn't have central air. Cooling charms were only doing so much, particularly as all three women were careful to cast only when necessary so as to not interfere with the developing magical core of their children.

I can suffer through some sweat, Hermione decided. It's not like I have anyone to impress.

It had been a month and a half since she'd jumped Sirius in the kitchen. She hadn't necessarily avoided him, per se, but she hadn't gone out of her way to see him. They certainly had _not_ had a repeat of that night in the kitchen; Hermione's hormones had thankfully gotten themselves together in mid-May and her sex drive had vanished. She chalked it up to entering her third trimester.

Since the end of term, Hermione had settled back into Malfoy Townhouse and started pounding away at her Mastery project. Master Blishen was traveling for the summer, but they had worked out a revision plan for the time he'd be gone and she had promised to owl weekly with updates on her work. Draco spent his days at Hogwarts in the Potions lab, not returning until late in the night, long after Hermione had gone to bed. She had hoped to spend more time with him this summer, as their child would be arriving in a few short months, but she understood his drive to finish as much as he could as quickly as he could.

She was surprised, when she reached out to Neville, that the Gryffindor was similarly engaged with his project at Hogwarts. He admitted that he split his nights between Longbottom Hall and the school, supervising his various greenhouses and the progress his orchids were making. Harry was working crazy hours at the Auror office—there had been a rise in domestic cases since the Procreation Act, and more than one pregnant witch had been thrown in holding at the Ministry overnight—and Lucius was busy at the DoM. Sirius was still watching Teddy full-time, but given Hermione's reticence about seeking out the Animagus, she'd decided to visit Grimmauld only when Harry and Teddy were both there as a buffer.

Just thinking about her actions after Teddy's birthday made her face flame red.

"Hermione?" a small voice called from the kitchen.

"Mm?" she mumbled.

"I asked if you wanted some lemonade?"

"Becca, you're a godsend," Hermione gushed. "Yes, please."

The petite Hufflepuff brought a tray with three glasses, setting one out for each witch. She had officially moved in with Katie and the two were getting along marvelously. The apartment was a short walk from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, where Katie would be moving upon the arrival of her baby. She wasn't ready to give up the apartment completely, though, especially as it served as a safe space for the three women—one where they could go and escape all the wizards in their lives.

"I could use some advice," Becca announced.

Hermione heaved herself into a sitting position, and Katie looked up from her Quidditch magazine. "Sure Becca. What's up?"

The young girl looked down. "Ernie wants to start dating. He says we owe it to our child to make an effort to be together."

A look flashed between Hermione and Katie. "But you don't want to date Ernie?" Katie asked tentatively.

Becca shook her head. "Maybe I would have given it a go before the Act, but now… just, everything about the way he's handled this has been pretty awful. Including the sex." She chuckled as the other girls lost themselves to laughter.

"Part of me thinks he's right, but then what does that say about the rest of my group? Won't I owe it to them to make an effort to be together? It just seems like every argument Ernie makes for dating could work for the rest of them as well."

Katie nodded. "Perhaps that's what you should do then."

Becca scrunched her eyebrows. "What?"

Katie sipped her lemonade. "Date them all. I mean, a few dates at least. Then you can go through the motions with Ernie, and not feel bad when you tell him there's nothing there. That also gives you an opportunity to feel out the possibility of romance with the other men in you group." The Gryffindor smiled mischeviously. "Like Theo."

Becca blushed, and Hermione's eyes went wide. "What?"

Katie shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, Becca didn't tell you? Theo has been helping her study for her Transfiguration NEWT, since McGonagall's replacement was apparently an idiot. They've been spending many night huddled together at our table." Katie glanced at the blushing girl. "Huddled _closely_ together."

Hermione smiled. "Awe, Becca."

"He's really smart," said the girl quietly. "And he asks how I'm doing and really listens. Like, even though this isn't his baby"—she rubbed her belly—"he still cares about us both."

Hermione was shocked. Theo had been to the townhouse a few times over the spring, and he'd always been the same, aloof man he'd been at Hogwarts. He was blasé about everything; his concern for Becca didn't correspond to her experiences with the wizard at all.

"Has Theo asked you out?" Hermione asked.

Becca shook her head. "No, and I don't think he will. He's much smarter than me, and he admitted he'd been contracted to Flora Carrow before she died. You remember how pretty the Carrow twins were. Smart, too."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, but that doesn't mean he doesn't see you that way. It's probably awkward for him, what with you pregnant with Ernie's baby. Plus, Ernie's dad has been pretty vocal about not liking Theo or Severus, right?"

Becca nodded.

"Look, just tell them all you'd like to spend one-on-one time with them to assess whether romance is on the table," said Katie. She wrinkled her nose. "Even Snape. He'll probably be a dick about it, but fair is fair."

Hermione laughed. "Yeah, I don't think Severus will be too pleased, but if you explain to him why he'll probably appreciate how deviously Slytherin this plan is."

Becca huffed. "Actually, it really sounds like the only fair thing to do."

Katie scoffed. "Hufflepuff."

After Becca called it an early night, the older Gryffindor turned on the curly-haired witch. "So, speaking of dating…"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. But it's just too weird. Between Draco and Sirius and _Harry_? How would that even work?"

"The same way it's going to work for Becca. You sit them all down and explain the necessity of it."

"But it's not necessary! None of them are pushing me like Ernie is pushing Becca. I don't want to rush into anything, Katie, and this isn't the right time."

"When will be the right time, Hermione?"

When I'm not pregnant, she thought.

But, when would she _not_ be pregnant? After all, the whole point of the Act—an act she had practically authored—was babies. Though it hadn't been discussed, it was implicit within their group that either Neville or Sirius would be next in line for an heir—Harry still looked green at the thought of being intimated with Hermione, and Lucius had adamantly claimed the very last slot. Would she be more willing to date when she was pregnant with Neville or Sirius's child?

But beyond her practical concerns were her emotional ones. She felt pulled to all three men in ways that differed significantly from her relationship with Harry. She found fun and laughter with Sirius, peace and safety with Neville, and curiosity and wit with Draco. Being around each of them was so easy.

Or, at least, it had been until she'd figured in the sex. She still got butterflies in her stomach at the thought of Draco holding her hand through the Floo, or his gentleness during their time in the cabin. She still got a little weak when she saw Sirius lick his lips after a long drink or good meal. And Neville still figured heavily in her masturbatory fantasies—usually along with Seamus or Ron.

"Never," responded Hermione. "There will never be a right time."

"But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try," said Katie softly. "You deserve more than this, Hermione." She gestured to their bulging bellies. "You will make a great mother, and you're the smartest witch I know and will be a brilliant Rune Master, but you also deserve to find love and happiness."

* * *

 _June 13th, 1999  
_ _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

"Harry, are you home?"

Harry looked up from the book he was reading to Teddy and saw Hermione's face in the Floo. "Hey 'Mione, I'm here. What's up?"

"Can I come through?"

"Sure."

Moments later, Hermione was shrugging ashes off her maternity dress, which hung loose from her growing waist. It was bright red and made her look a little like a tomato. "Sorry to intrude, but I was hoping we could talk." She glanced at Teddy, and Harry didn't miss the concern in her eye.

"Sure thing. Let me get this little guy down. He's pretty calm tonight, so it shouldn't take too long."

Less than a half hour later, the pair was back in the library, a firewhisky in Harry's hand and a glass of water in Hermione's.

"I've made a decision, and I want to talk to you about it before I spring it on any of the other men in the group." She was looking at the glass and clearly nervous.

"OK. You're not deciding to leave us and have your magic bound, are you?"

"Circe, no!" Hermione exclaimed. "Absolutely not."

"Whew," Harry sighed, relieved. "Good."

Hermione sat her glass down and looked up. "I want to date."

Harry's eyes went wide. "Me?"

"What? No! No. I want to date, generally speaking. I want to get out there, so to speak." She wrinkled her nose at him. "I mean, do you want to date me?"

He made a face at her. "'Mione, I love you, but I'm pretty sure you'd kill me if we ever dated. Plus, the thought of… you know…"

"It's gross. I know." She laughed. "Merlin, we're going to have to be so hopped up on lust potions to get you that heir."

He nodded solemnly. "A little Polyjuice for both of us wouldn't go amiss either."

She smiled. "So you don't want to date me?"

He looked confused. "Yes. No. I mean, yes, I do _not_ want to date you. I'm sorry if that upsets you, but…"

She sighed in relief. "Not at all. I just wanted to make sure."

He took a sip of whisky. "I was actually thinking about asking Daphne out on a date."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "Daphne Greengrass?"

Harry's cheeks turned pink. "Yeah. She's been by the Auror office a few times—I guess a couple of her domestic cases were from groups she's been assigned—and she always asks after Teddy. Last time, she brought some chocolate for me to give to him. She's pretty nice, actually…"

"… and not too bad to look at," grinned Hermione. Harry's blush deepened. "I think that's a great idea, Harry."

He nodded. "OK, so now that we've established the _we're_ not going to date, what have you decided?"

She gulped. Harry was her litmus test. He'd mellowed significantly since his outbursts last year, but he still had a lot of deep-seeded distrust of the Malfoys.

"I want to go on a series of dates with Draco, Neville, Sirius, and Lucius. Just to see if there's anything there. I talked it over with Becca and Katie and, well, it doesn't really make sense for me to wait until I'm not pregnant with one of your children to date. This situation isn't going to get any less complicated. Katie's dating George, and she said that even though it's hard to be together, knowing she'll have to be with his brothers too, it's made them communicate more and really made their relationship stronger." She took a deep breath. "What do you think?"

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, and then shrugged. "It's not my place, 'Mione. Sure, it'll be weird that you're dating four wizards, at least initially, or that you might be with someone when you get knocked up with my kid, but that's no weirder than this whole situation we've found ourselves in." He took her hand in his. "We've been dealt a shit hand, and you need to do what you need to do to find happiness."

Her jaw dropped. "Who are you, and what have you done with Harry Potter?"

He smiled softly. "I've been… I've been talking a lot with Sirius, about Ginny. I still miss her so bad, but Sirius said when you love someone, you never stop loving them. They're always there, even if you fall in love with someone else. And that the best way we can honor them is by living our life and being happy." He took her hand. "So be happy, 'Mione. And if that means I have to deal with the stupid ferret and his stupid ferret-dad, so be it."

* * *

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

"I should go," said Draco, sitting up and reaching for his trousers.

Neville traced a finger down the blond's back. "You could stay."

Draco shook his head. "No. This is fun, Longbottom, but we can't start getting all cuddly and shit, because that's how people develop feelings." Learned that one too recently, thought Draco, an image of Hermione coming undone beneath him, then curled up asleep in his arms, flashing through his mind.

Neville shifted to his side, his head resting in his hand. "Says who?"

Draco shrugged the hand off his back. "Says me. Says everyone. What would we tell Hermione? What would I tell my father?" Draco stood and shrugged on his shirt, a quick _Reparo_ fixing the buttons that had been torn loose in their lovemaking. He gathered his things and, with a kiss to the Gryffindor and a brief look in the mirror, made for the door. "This is fun-it's bloody fantastic, actually-but fun is all it can be."

The door slammed shut, and Neville looked longingly after his bedmate. "Too late," he whispered.

Draco stopped in the hallway and leaned back against the stones next to Neville's door, his head making a soft _thud_. He closed his eyes and he desperately willed away the desire to march back into Neville's quarters and fuck him through the mattress.

"Shit."


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: RL got to me this past week, and I had family visit all weekend, so writing last week's chapter of_ Pax Matrum _fell by the wayside. I'm putting this out on a Tuesday, so it's likely the next installment won't be for at least another week-maybe next Friday. Hopefully I'll be back on track with weekly updates then._

 _I am just loving all the feedback, you wonderful people! Just a note: a lot of people are upset about Draco screwing around on Hermione w/ Neville. That's totally fair; his actions do seem a bit whack, to be sure. That said, Hermione and Draco (as of last chapter) aren't dating, and Draco has always been, well, kind of a selfish dick. They're all trying to figure this wacky situation out, and they're gonna screw it up. Probably a lot. See: Hermione's ridiculous insecurities, Draco's ignorance of how to be a good co-parent to the pregnant mother of your child, etc. I am a much better writer of angst than of fluff, but I am planning a (at least 95%) HEA to this story, so keep that in mind :)_

 _If you haven't figured it out, this is shaping up to be a poly story (if the Procreation Group situation didn't give that away, I don't know what would). Someday, when the pairings are firm, I'll update the story summary to reflect that. But for now, I'll go ahead and say, for full disclosure: moving forward this story will include multiple sexual partners and/or poly relationship structures._

 _As always, thanks for reading. xx_

* * *

 _June 17th, 1999  
_ _Malfoy Townhouse_

Lucius sipped his tea and listened to the mother of his unborn grandson explain her idea for dating within the Procreation group. She had clearly laid out her goals and reasons and, despite her nerves, seemed convinced this was a good idea.

He sat down his teacup. "No."

Hermione eyes flew open. "No?"

"No. Hermione, I applaud your thinking, and I do believe your course of action is an excellent one. But not for me."

"But…" she looked let down.

"It is nothing on you, dear girl." He leaned forward and took her shaking hand and gently rubbed her thumb. "Someday, you will give me more children. And I am grateful to you for that beyond words. Being a father is… well, I didn't make the best choices for Draco and he suffered. I'm glad I will have the opportunity some day to do better."

He released her hand. "But I gave my heart away a long time ago. I will take no other lover, no other wife. Instead, I will devote myself to my family. To my son and my future children"—he smiled warmly at Hermione—"and to my grandson."

She exhaled loudly. "Zero for two," she whispered.

"Pardon?"

She huffed. "I won't date Harry because… ew… and now you've bowed out as well. What happens if no one in the group is interested in dating me?"

Lucius chuckled. "Hermione, unless I'm wrong—and I rarely am—that won't be an issue at all."

* * *

 _June 18th 1999  
_ _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

"Why do I feel like I'm in detention?" muttered Sirius. Hermione had decided to approach the other three men together, laying all her cards on the table, and Harry had graciously agreed to take Teddy to the Burrow and stay out of their hair for the afternoon.

Neville smiled. "Because it's Hermione. If we're not in trouble, then we're going to be working on some big project for her."

Hermione sighed and absently rubbed her stomach. To this point, she'd had a fairly uneventful pregnancy: the morning sickness from her first trimester and the exponential increase in her libido second trimester had been her major symptoms. In fact, she was a little worried with how little weight she'd gained. She was a petite woman, so the was no denying he pregnant belly, but she hadn't put on much weight elsewhere. This was something of a sore spot for Katie who, now nearing her ninth month, received nightly foot rubs from George to soothe her swollen ankles.

"You're not too far off, Neville," she said. "I guess you could think of it like a project."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Hermione, between your Mastery work and the baby, I don't think you should be taking on any more. I don't want you to overextend yourself."

She shook her head. "No, it's not that kind of a project. It's... well, just hear me out."

The three sat on the sofa and looked at her. Draco, as per usual, showed no emotion. He had been upset that he'd needed to come with her to Grimmauld Place—"I don't see why I have to deal with Potter and Black to have a conversation with you!"—but he'd acquiesced eventually. Neville, sitting in the middle of the three men, betrayed some of the awkwardness of his youth, his eyes darting from Hermione to Draco and his hands firmly on his knees.

Despite the early afternoon hour, Sirius had decided to deal with an intruding Malfoy by having a glass of Blishen's. He winked at her.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I've been thinking a lot, lately, and I'm worried that I've been a little distant from you all. When we first met in November, I asked that we all spend time together to get to know one another. Given our various situations, I've been complacent in how we spend that time, and I think that's been to my— _our—_ detriment.

"I think I've been concerned about making emotional attachments to you all that are tainted by the strange situation we've found ourselves in. After all, it wouldn't do for me to become romantically involved with Draco, only to find myself pining after whoever's child I have next."

Draco's mouth thinned.

"But if I wait until I'm not pregnant to start sorting my feelings, I'll be thirty, have at least five children, and may have lost my chance with some of you." She paused, and surveyed the men in front of her. "So I'd like to start dating you. _All_ of you," she said, before anyone could interrupt her. "I want to give us all an honest to goodness chance, and see what happens. If, after a few dates, we decide we're better as friends—or even just co-parents—the we can put any romantic possibilities behind us without drama." She fiddled with the hem of her skirt. "But I want to try."

They all looked at her, and she was reminded of the day seven months ago when she first assembled her Procreation group to meet. The way no one had offered to step up and have the first child, the way they'd been horrified of her virgin status…

"Yes."

She looked at Sirius, who had a wide grin on his face, his dark eyes twinkling brightly. "Absolutely yes. Can I call first date? Because I'm going to plan something _spectacular_ for you on Friday night. You are free Friday night, right?"

She smiled shyly and nodded. That was a _much_ better reaction than last time.

Draco scoffed. "You better not have her doing anything remotely dangerous, Black." He looked at Hermione with hard eyes for a moment before nodding, once. "Sure Granger. I'm in."

Her smile got a little larger, and she shifted to look at the man in the middle. "Neville?"

He looked uncomfortable and fidgeted in his seat. "I'm going to ask you a question, Hermione, and I don't want you to get upset, OK?"

She furrowed her brow. "I'll try. That's the best I can do."

He nodded. "You'll be dating all five of us…"

"Three," she interrupted. "Lucius made it clear that he would not be remarrying or dating"—she spared a glance at Draco, who looked both shocked that that had been a possibility and visibly relieved that he wouldn't have to share his girlfriend with his father—"and Harry and I have _always_ known there was no romance between us. The only people I'll be potentially dating are sitting in this room."

Neville cocked his head. "OK, you'll be dating three of us. Does that mean we are allowed to see other people as well?"

Hermione shouldn't have been shocked. She really shouldn't have been. She'd heard from Padma when the two had taken tea together a few weeks back that Parvati was struggling with the whole post-plague situation. She hadn't taken well to her own infertility and Padma's pairing with a young group of Muggleborns, including Dean Thomas and Justin Finch-Fletchly, and as a result Parvati had gone on something of a sexual bender.

"It's not like I can get pregnant," she said hotly when Padma confronted her about it. "I'm just having a bit of fun. Something _you_ can't do now that you're knocked up."

Hermione wondered if it was Parvati that Neville was seeing. What if they became a couple? What if Parvati would be the mother of her and Neville's children?

Hermione visibly frowned at the thought.

"Oh," said Neville, assuming she was frowning at his question and looking a little put out. "I see."

Hermione shook her head, banishing all thoughts of prissy children who obsessed over boys and only practiced glamour charms from her head. "I guess don't mind, as long as you're honest with me, even if you're only seeing someone casually. Intimacy is probably off the table for me for the immediate future, for a variety of reasons, but I would like to know if you're sleeping with someone while dating me."

Draco stared resolutely ahead, refusing to meet Neville's furtive glances.

Sirius sighed. "We'll need to talk, kitten."

She nodded, but inside her heart clenched. That didn't bode well.

Neither Neville nor Draco spoke.

"So…" Hermione drawled. She was at a loss for what to do now.

Draco stood and brushed imaginary dirt off his trousers. "Since Black has claimed your Friday night, may I take you out Saturday?" He grinned. "Well, you and Scorpius?"

She smiled, blushing, and nodded.

"Excellent." He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you at home," he whispered in her ear. He called out for the townhouse and disappeared through the Floo.

Neville stood and smiled half-heartedly. "Sunday? I may want to see you before then, if you could spare tea sometime this week." She nodded. He kissed the other cheek, and left in a flash of green light.

She turned back to Sirius, who had drained his Blishen's and was rubbing a hand on his neck.

"Sirius?"

"Yeah. Give me a minute." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Bloody hell." He murmured.

She moved to the couch and sat by him, taking his hand. "Just tell me: is it…" She stopped. She would not walk into that pun. "Is this person important to your future?"

Sirius shook his head. "It's not like that, kitten. This person has… fuck, this is hard."

He weaved his wand through his fingers, something he always did when he was nervous. Hermione took both hands in hers and gently placed his wand on the coffee table, leaving hers there as well.

"I've been spending the full moons with Bill," Sirius said quietly. "It helps if he can expend some energy. It's nothing—I mean, we're not dating or anything, but when he was scratched he was with Fleur and after she died…" He waved his hand, as if his gesture explained everything.

Hermione was in shock. That was _not_ what she had expected, and she wasn't quite clear on how Fleur's death led to Bill fucking Sirius. "After she died…"

The animagus sighed. "After she died, Bill approached me. He asked how Remus handled the drives before Dora; it's not exactly the same, but Bill is a lot like Remus was the days before the moon."

Hermione's eyes went wide with realization. "You and Remus…?"

Sirius nodded. "Since we were at Hogwarts. Hell of a thing, to come back from the veil and find that while I was gone he'd gone and taken up with my cousin." Sirius offered a wry smile, though she could see the hurt behind it. "I never could get him to marry me. I tried after Hogwarts; I tried after Azkaban. I guess he was meant for Dora."

Hermione stroked his hands with her thumb. "I'm sorry."

He waved it off, and it hurt her to think he was trying to make light of something that clearly upset him.

"It can't be changed, and now we've got Teddy." Sirius sighed. "Kitten, I don't have feelings for Bill. Not like Remus. It's not the same thing. But it… it helps him. Very few people would understand the situation, including his family. You know how conservative Molly is. She never approved of Remus and I, not even when I tried to make an honest werewolf out of him."

Hermione nodded. "I get it."

Sirius looked hard at her. "Do you? You're fine with me fucking another guy while dating you?"

She grimaced at his bluntness. "As Neville pointed out, it's not particularly fair of me to expect otherwise. Someday, when I'm not the size of a beached whale, I'll want to sleep with the people I'm dating." She blushed before she continued. "And, as you well know, I get quite… randy… in my second trimester."

He grinned. "I remember, kitten. I remember _vividly_."

She leaned in and kissed Sirius on the cheek. "I won't interfere with the full moons. If it becomes more, or if there is anyone else, you will tell me?"

He sighed and nodded, clearly relieved. "Of course." He stood and helped her up. "I will see you Friday. Seven?"

She nodded.

"Good." He took her hips in his hands, his thumbs ghosting over her protruding stomach. "Until then."

* * *

 _Malfoy Townhouse_

Hermione came through the Floo to find Draco sitting in the parlor. He stood and met her.

"Hermione, I owe you an apology." He guided her to the sofa where he had been seated. "I've been remiss in my duties as the father of our child."

Hermione was running on fumes at this point—she was exhausted from the anxiety over talking with Neville, Draco, and Sirius, the actual conversation with them, and then Sirius's reveal regarding his liaisons with Bill. All she wanted was a damn nap.

She pat the fretting blond's hand. "Draco, it's fine. I'm quite lucky this has been an easy pregnancy, and now that Dottie is taking a wage and a day off monthly I feel much better about having her help out."

"It's no excuse," he said. "And"—he gulped—"I'm sorry."

Her eyes went wide, and she quirked a smile. "Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?"

He smirked at her. "I'll have you know that Malfoys apologize when they're wrong. The problem is we're so rarely wrong, you see."

She lightly smacked his shoulder and rolled her eyes. "Of course, _my_ mistake." She closed her eyes. "It's fine, really. If you feel the need to make it up to me more, I wouldn't say no to chocolate later. But right now I want to go lay down for a bit."

He jumped up. "Of course, you've had a busy day." He pulled her from the couch and tucked her arm in his. "I'll walk you to your suite."

"Thank you," she yawned. Belatedly, her hand went to her mouth. "Apologies. I'm more tired than I realized."

He chuckled. "All the more reason to get you to bed."

The walk to her suite was silent, but not uncomfortable. He stopped at her door. "I know we don't have our date until Friday, but if you like I can bring you that chocolate you were craving tonight. Perhaps we could read together? I need to finish Puckett's treatise on spellwork and brewing, but I'd also like to spend time with you."

She nodded. "I'd like that too. I do have some notes I need to finish up."

He squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek. "Sleep well."

* * *

 _Longbottom Hall_

In the library at Longbottom Hall, Neville sipped a drink and stared into the fireplace.

He thought Draco would come by, but the blond never made an appearance.

Instead, Neville spent a long night pondering the ache he felt for his darling Hannah, the passion he felt for his blond paramour, and the long suppressed torch he'd carried for Gryffindor's Golden Girl.


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N: Happy birthday to me. Here's a new chapter. If it was your birthday, I'd include some lemony-lemons, but it's not (I assume-if it is, happy birthday!)._

 _You'll have to make due with a new baby and adorable date instead._

 _Admittedly, there probably won't be many lemony-lemons until after Scorpius. Hermione seven months pregnant at this point, so you can just go ahead and assume she's getting to that stage where nothing-not sex, sitting, standing, or sleeping-is comfortable._

 _Next up (and currently being written): another date and confession time!_

 _As always, thanks for_

* * *

 _June 24, 1999_

 _St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies_

"Merlin, Katie, he's beautiful."

Hermione cradled the small, sleeping bundle in her arms, her eyes brimming with tears. Katie's son had been born five weeks early. Becca, who had started her Healer training immediately after the end of term and had been in the hospital when Katie arrived, had sent a message to Hermione. After owling Harry and leaving a message for Draco, who was working at Hogwarts, Hermione Flooed to St. Mungo's.

She wasn't the only one. There was a waiting room full of Weasleys, and when she finally found Ron he confided that Molly had hexed two photographers who had shown up for the birth of the Minister's first grandchild. The older witch was apparently still quite put out that Katie had only wanted George in the room for the birth.

She had sat in the waiting room and talked with the family for a long time: Arthur the grinning grandfather, Molly the weeping grandmother, and the Weasley men in various states of excitement and nervousness. Becca had stopped by after her shift, bringing a round of tea for the large group.

After the baby's arrival, Hermione waited patiently to see her friend. Fred and Becca, as godparents, were the first to meet the baby, followed by the grandparents and the rest of the Weasley men. Hermione was just about to leave, thinking she'd let Katie rest and return the next day, when Fred popped out of the room.

"'Mione? Come on in. Most of the family is leaving now, but Katie wants to see you."

Which is how Hermione ended up with an arm full of a red-headed newborn.

Katie smiled, exhaustion evident on her face. "He is, isn't he? And you know what's crazy. I made that. Me. My body." She waved at her friend's torso. "And you're making one right now."

Hermione's heart fluttered. She was so enamored with Katie's baby—how much more so would she be when Scorpius arrived? She carefully handed the sleeping child back to George, who took it with all the smiling pride of a first-time father. He sat next to Fred on the couch, and the two men started telling the baby all about their life as pranksters and how he would be expected to follow in their trouble-making footsteps.

Katie rolled her eyes and pat the bed next to her. Hermione sat down on the edge and took her friend's hand. "How do you feel?"

Katie laughed. "Like a got hit by the Knight Bus. I don't know how Muggles do this without pain relief spells."

"They have drugs. Like potions. They stick a needle in your spine, and it gets rid of a lot of the pain."

Katie looked horrified. "Really?"

Hermione shrugged. "My mother told me it sounds scarier than it is, particularly when you're in the throes of childbirth."

Katie thought about that a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah, it was no walk in the park. But I would've suffered through anything to get him here and have him healthy. It was such a relief when the Healer said there were no complications from being early."

Hermione glanced at the twins. "Weasleys have always done things in their own time."

Katie looked at her boyfriend and his brother. "Yes, but _that_ Weasley will be getting his NEWTs, even if he follows in his pranking fathers footsteps."

Hermione left shortly after, leaving some homemade treats and a large, soft swaddle with the new parents. As she made her way to the Floo, she rubbed her growing stomach and smiled.

Not too long now.

* * *

 _June 25, 1999  
_ _The Daily Prophet_

 _MINISTER'S FIRST GRANDCHILD BORN!_

 _Newest Weasley signals the beginning of the Procreation Act baby boom_

 _by Andy Smudgley_

 _Yesterday afternoon, Katie Bell gave birth to the first grandchild for current Minister for Magic, Arthur Weasley. The minister's namesake, Arthur Frederick Weasley, arrived at 3:24 pm at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. The child's father is Minister Weasley's son, George._

 _Ms. Bell's pregnancy was announced at the same time as the first round of plague-inoculated pregnancies, though Ms. Bell had not yet taken the inoculations._

 _"I was very scared," Ms. Bell told me while she held her newborn son. "The plague had only just happened, and we were all still reeling from those losses."_

 _"Katie was a trooper," said George Weasley, when asked about the arrival of his son. "Artie made his appearance early, but Katie was totally calm through it all. I couldn't have done what she did."_

 _"We won't inoculate Arthur until he's a year old," said Healer Frank MacMillan. "He's likely to be the only child to receive the inoculation so young, as the children expected in September were all conceived after their mother's received the antidote potions, prohibiting the spread of the plague."_

 _Ms. Bell has been paired with the Weasley sons for the Procreation Act. The birth of Arthur will count toward the children she is expected to bear as part of the Act. The family was tight-lipped on which of the Weasley sons could expect a child next._

 _The Prophet congratulates Ms. Bell and the Weasley family on their newest addition and looks forward to publishing many more birth announcement in the near future!_

* * *

 _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

"Sirius?"

Hermione had arrived at Grimmauld Place in a black summer dress, cream cardigan, and simple sandals.

"Kitten!"

Sirius walked into the parlor in a dark red button down, rolled to the elbows, and dark denim trousers. His hair was tied back loosely with a leather thong, and he wore simple, black ankle boots. He walked to her quickly and kissed her on the cheek. "Sorry I didn't pick you up, but it didn't make much sense to head to the townhouse and then right back here. Ready?"

Hermione smiled at his excitement. "For what? You still haven't told me what we're doing."

He grinned at her. "Ah, I have found the perfect activity for us. It is a combination of your know-it-all nature and my penchant for misbehaving. But first, dinner. Come on!"

They took the tube to Moorgate and stopped at a hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant for curry. Hermione had been craving spicy food, and traditional British fare didn't lend itself to the heat she desired.

Conversation centered mostly on her project, which was moving along nicely. She confided to Sirius that she was worried after the arrival of Scorpius that her project would take a back seat.

"I can't imagine that being the case," said Sirius thoughtfully. "You're the most driven person I know, Hermione. You never leave anything half-finished." He took her hand over the table. "Besides, if you do decide not to finish—to do something else entirely—you'll have our support. Well, _my_ support at least. Our lives change and who we are changes; if your life takes you in a different direction, it's not failure to change what you want out of your life."

The prospect of not finishing her project made Hermione cringe inside; she knew Sirius was trying to be supportive and helpful, but it simply made her anxiety sky-rocket. She took a long drink of water and asked him if he had made any decisions regarding his future.

Sirius leaned back and crossed his legs, his right ankle on his left knee. He considered her question, tilting his head slightly left and rubbing his neck.

His career—or lack thereof—hadn't been an explicit point of discussion, but more than once Hermione had gently reminded Sirius that a life of leisure wasn't really setting a great example for Harry or Teddy.

"Kingsley asked me to think about joining the Aurors. He offered to let me take a modified training course, since I've already been through it all, and come in at my old position. I'd technically be ranked higher than Harry, although we all know Prongslette will shoot through the ranks faster than a Niffler seeking gold." He paused. "I turned him down. I know it doesnt' look good for me not to work, but we still have Teddy and I don't want to foist him off on Molly if we don't have to. Plus, eventually we'll have some more little ones running around."

Hermione nodded, letting him say his peace.

"I think I'd like to take care of the kids until they're off to Hogwarts. And," he sighed heavily, "I'm thinking about taking my family seat on the Wizengamot."

Hermione's eyes went as wide as saucers. Aside from occupying Grimmauld Place, Sirius had wanted nothing to do with the Black family. He'd continually sneered and derided his ancestors and the relics of their pure-blooded bigotry that Grimmauld's occupants continued to find. Aside from mourning his brother, after returning from the Veil and discovering Regulus's defection from Voldemort, Sirius wanted nothing to do with the Blacks.

"Can I ask why?" Hermione prodded.

Sirius looked slightly uncomfortable but continued. "You know I hate politics, kitten, and the thought of sitting in that stuffy chamber in ugly robes makes me itch. But Arthur approached me a few weeks ago with some questions for legislation regarding ritual magics, and I felt like I had something to contribute. Arthur said I have a 'unique perspective.' I think that just means I was raised like Lucius but decided not to be a pure-blood dick _before_ the wars and the plague."

Hermione was floored, but she quickly gathered her thoughts. "You could do a lot of the Wizengamot work at home, even before Teddy goes to Hogwarts. Harry or I could watch him on days you need to be in chambers for debates and important votes."

Sirius nodded. "Or Molly, if you're both going to continue taking the wizarding world by storm, as I expect you will. But on top of all that Hermione"—he reached for her hand—"I thought the Black name would die with me, so I never really cared to fix my family legacy. But circumstances have changed. I want to leave our children something they can be proud of. I want to be the best dad I can, and I think that means not only raising them but working toward a better world for them."

Hermione had tears in her eyes. Who was this man in front of her? It certainly wasn't Sirius, the man-child she'd known during her Fourth and Fifth years at Hogwarts. It wasn't Sirius, the reckless wizard who had fallen out of the Veil after the final battle. It wasn't even Sirius, the reluctant participant in the Procreation Act.

This was, she thought, what Sirius would have always been if Voldemort hadn't ripped their world apart.

"I have every faith you'll make our children proud," she said quietly, squeezing his hand. "You've already made me proud."

He grinned, and his light-hearted expression signaled the end of the heavy conversation. "I aim to please. But you already know that, don't you." He winked at her, and she blushed. "Come on, it's time for part two of our date."

They walked a short while to the Museum of London, and Hermione laughed at the sign noting a special, after-hours event showcasing the newest exhibit: the history of tattoo culture in London.

Sirius shrugged. "You like museums, I like tattoos. This seemed to split the difference."

They wandered the museum for hours. First they visited the special exhibit, where Sirius spent much of their time comparing his own ink to the displays and quietly discussing with Hermione the ways magical ink could improve on the designs. Then, they wandered through the Medieval London exhibit; Hermione pointed out the wizard world's influence on some of the pagan art.

They skipped the War, Plague & Fire exhibit; that still felt too raw and close to home.

Hermione didn't realize how much she'd missed Muggle London. Since the death of her parents during the war—a drunk driver, of all things—Hermione hadn't ventured out into the Muggle world much. It seemed like one crisis after another kept her from venturing beyond the confines of the wizarding world.

She was grateful that Sirius wasn't overwhelmed by the people and noises and sheer immensity of it all. She couldn't imagine either of the Malfoys would be comfortable in the Muggle world; Neville might give it a token effort, but it wouldn't be easy or comfortable for him.

Sirius never once seemed out of place.

After she mentioned that she was getting tired—she kept her concerns about swollen feet to herself—Sirius ushered her out of the museum and hailed a cab.

She hadn't realized quite how tired she was until she climbed in the black car and Sirius threw his arm around her.

"Kitten? We're here."

Hermione cracked an eye. She was burrowed in Sirius's chest, his arm still around her shoulders and his fingers lightly twirling her curls. Her dress had ridden up high, showing more thigh than she was remotely comfortable with. She shot up and pulled at her hem.

"Merlin, I'm sorry Sirius. I can't believe I fell asleep!"

He laughed as he handed a wad of cash to the driver. "It's alright kitten. C'mon, let's get you to bed."

She blushed as he helped her out of the car; he cast a _Confundus_ charm on the driver before they walked up stairs to a townhouse that didn't exist. "Sirius…"

He put his hand on the small of her back. "I mean it. I'm taking you back to the Malfoys and putting you to bed." He grinned at her. "What, you thought _my_ bed? What kind of hussy do you take me for? You thought I'd just give it up to you on the first date?"

She felt a giggle escape her mouth, which turned into a yawn.

In no time at all they were through the Floo, Sirius waving to a confused Lucius and Draco as she led him to her suite. He stopped at the door and pulled her close.

"There's nothing I'd like more than to join you in that room, even just to sleep." He leaned down and captured her lips in a soft, sweet kiss—so different from his kisses months before. "But I'm going to be a gentleman and let you rest, kitten. Do you have plans Wednesday afternoon?"

She shook her head. She was still foggy from his kisses and her exhaustion, but she knew her schedule was clear except for her other dates that weekend.

He leaned into her, his lips just brushing against her ear. "May I take you out again?"

She nodded, and he kissed her cheek.

"Good. Goodnight, kitten."

Sirius strolled back through the halls of the townhouse, whistling and smiling. He ducked into the parlor, to Floo home, and found Draco sitting on a sofa, a tumbler of amber liquor in his hand.

"Black."

"Draco."

The two regarded each other, each wearing the mask of indifference they'd been taught from birth. Draco felt a fire in his chest for the man's intrusive and unwelcome presence in his house, in Hermione's bedroom, in their life; Sirius felt a tightness in his stomach that this little boy was responsible for the baby in Hermione's womb.

Moments passed as the two men sized each other up. They considered each other's strengths and weaknesses, each plotting to use those weaknesses against each other. The Black blood flowed strong through the two men—Harry and Neville might have tenuous enough ties to the Black family, but Draco was the son of a Black and Sirius _was_ a Black. They were emotional and possessive and _dark_.

They were also shrewd and conniving and calculating. They saw the game at hand, and they could see ten moves out what would happen. They understood the insular nature of the wizarding world; the inability of most people to keep secrets; the importance of alliance building, both now and in the future; and, most importantly the clever and perceptive nature of their witch.

"Have a pleasant evening, Black," Draco said, tilting his head in dismissal.

"You too, Draco," replied Sirius, just before he disappeared into the Floo.


	26. Chapter 26

_A/N: Long time since updating, but a long-ish chapter to hopefully compensate. All mistakes are my own. (Although I'll give some of the blame to parent-brain and my kid... I only have one and I'm beat! What have I brought down on poor, poor Hermione?)_

 _I wanted so bad for this to be fluffy. I wanted it really, really bad. But alas, the characters thwarted me at every turn..._

* * *

 _June 25th, 1999  
_ _Longbottom Hall_

Neville looked up from his armchair, where he'd been reading, to see a heated Draco Malfoy storming through his Floo.

"Malfoy? What are you—"

Draco pulled Neville from his chair and, in one quick movement, took his mouth in a intense, frantic kiss.

Neville groaned, and slipped his hands around the blond, pulling his shirt out of his trousers and grasping at the pale skin underneath. Draco's skin was so damn soft—even his hands—and it made Neville want to curl up into him, melt into him, sink into him.

Draco pulled at the Gryffindor and repositioned him against the wall of the library; Neville's back hit the wall with a dull thud. The blond kissed up his lover's neck, sucking for a moment on his pulse point, and then moved to the shell of Neville's ear.

"I want to suck you off," he said, his hands quickly undoing Neville's trousers.

Draco dropped to his knees, pushing down Neville's trousers as he went. Neville fisted the blond's hair as he was released from the confines of his pants.

"Yes," hissed Neville as Draco took him in his mouth.

It was a quick and dirty blowjob, one that perhaps belonged in a seedy alley or a dark corner of a club, rather than in the warm firelight of a private library, but their surroundings didn't detract from Draco's vigor or Neville's arousal. Before too long, Neville was groaning and releasing himself into Draco's mouth.

He pulled Draco up and kissed him, not with the frantic fire from earlier but with no less passion. He pulled back, looking at his lover.

"Not that I'm complaining—I will always accept a blowjob from you—but what brought that on?"

Draco shrugged. "I wanted to."

Neville continued looking at the Slytherin and raised an eyebrow, but he didn't respond.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Hermione came home from her date with Black. They had a good time. He went to her room."

Neville narrowed his eyes and pulled up his pants. "He went to her room, or he went to her room and they slept together."

Draco rolled his eyes. "He walked her to her room. She's seven months pregnant, Longbottom. I can't imagine she's up for much wand play right now."

Neville regarded the blond. "You were jealous."

It was not a question, and Draco didn't reply.

Neville frowned. "I haven't told her about us. Not yet."

The blond looked up in surprise. His eyes told Neville he was conflicted about revealing their situation to Hermione.

Neville took Draco's hands and stroked his thumbs. "If she's uncomfortable with this, what do you want to do?"

The fire crackled next to them, their hands entwined and bodies close, but neither meeting the other's eyes. Draco leaned forward, and Neville kissed his forehead gently.

"I don't know."

* * *

 _June 26th, 1999  
_ _Malfoy Townhouse_

Hermione stretched in her bed, still tired after a long night's sleep. A tiny 'pop' of apparition announced the arrival of one of the Malfoy's house elves.

"Miss Hermione must be getting out of bed soon. She is expected in the parlor at eleven." The small elf snapped her fingers, and the curtains opened to a bright summer sun. Hermione threw her arm over her eyes.

"What is at eleven, Lutine?"

The elf tutted and set down a tray on the side table.

"I can't be telling you, Miss Hermione. It be a surprise. I bring tea and toast. There be more food downstairs later."

A quick _Tempus_ showed it was just after nine, so Hermione rolled out of bed. She glanced at the table and saw a note folded next to her tea. She trudged over and grabbed it.

 _Hermione—_

 _You did say that Saturday was my day for a date. I've got a surprise for you at eleven in the parlor. Then we'll need to do a bit of shopping before we take tea with a friend. I'll tell you the rest of the day's schedule then._

 _—DM_

Hermione's chest fluttered, and she wondered what the surprise could be. She sat down and munched on a piece of toast as she considered it. Would it be anything like yesterday's surprise outing, or Sirius's announcement that he wanted to take the Black seat on the Wizengamot?

And what did it mean that she had such a pleasant evening with Sirius, but was now fantasizing about her date with Draco?

She caught herself before she wandered down the rabbit-hole of her current predicament and decided to simply enjoy the rest of the weekend. She should see all three of her dates through before thinking too hard about anything.

A little under two hours later, Hermione headed toward the parlor in a simple navy sundress and denim jacket. Without the jacket, the dress could be more formal; with it, she looked casual and comfortable. Since she had no idea what Draco's surprise was, this allowed her to be prepared for whatever he threw at her.

To say that she was shocked when she walked in the parlor would be an understatement. It had nothing to do with the absence of the blond wizard; it had everything to do with the silver and gold streamers and balloons, the table of brunch finger-foods, and the small gathering of witches seated on the sofas.

"Surprise!" they called out. Becca rushed forward to give Hermione a hug and lead her over to the group.

"I'll say," said Hermione, slowly looking around the room. Becca seated her on an open chair and took her own seat next to an equally-pregnant Padma Patil and slightly larger Vicky Frobisher. Molly Weasley and Minerva McGonagall were seated on another sofa, while Daphne Greengrass sat slightly off to the side. She looked aloof, but Hermione knew the pretty witch well enough to know she was covering for her discomfort.

"What are you all doing here?" asked Hermione.

"It's your baby shower, silly!" cried Becca.

"Oh," said Hermione, smiling. "That's lovely—but I'm supposed to be meeting Draco…"

Daphne laughed, and Hermione was glad to see the Slytherin witch smile.

"This was all Draco's doing, Hermione," she said, smirking at her friend. "He owled all of us earlier this week, but he insisted we keep it a surprise." Hermione's heart clenched at the sweetness of the gesture.

"We're only missing Katie, for obvious reasons," interjected Molly, who was smiling broadly.

"How is Katie?" Hermione asked.

The next few hours passed pleasantly. Hermione caught up with the various women, and the group oohed and aahed over the gifts for Scorpius: more baby blankets than Hermione thought the child would ever need, even with such a small group, a plethora of clothes, and a stack of oversized swaddles from Molly.

"The newborn parent's secret to success is good, sturdy swaddles," said Molly knowingly.

Hermione was intentional about bringing Daphne into the various conversations. She was able to get the Slytherin talking with Becca about her counseling experiences—Becca was still worried about Ernie and was contemplating seeking out a counselor. Daphne also spoke at length with Vicky Frobisher; Gerald Greengrass was in Vicky's Procreation group, though Vicky was currently pregnant with Francis Burke's heir. Given Francis's proclivities, the pair had made liberal use of lust potions, but otherwise Francis had apparently been quite wonderful about the whole thing and was thrilled to procure his family's heir without having to bullshit his way through a marriage. Having grown up with most of the men in Vicky's group, Daphne was able to give the girl a myriad of advice when dealing with not only Gerald, but also the Burke, Rosier, and Urquhart families.

Padma took Hermione aside at one point and apologized for Parvati's absence. Draco had extended the invitation to both Patils, but the two witches had recognized Parvati might not be the best company for the event. Padma admitted, teary-eyed, that her relationship with her twin hadn't improved since she and Hermione had last spoke. She was worried that Parvati would abandon her, and her children would never know her sister. Hermione hugged her friend close.

Minerva oohed and aahed as much as her proper Scottish demeanor would allow, and asked Hermione if she thought she'd be back in the spring. Hermione had hedged her answer; if her exhaustion in the spring was any indicator of parenthood, she wasn't sure she'd have the energy for Hogwarts.

At one thirty, Draco walked into the parlor and dropped a kiss on Hermione's temple. "Having fun, ladies?"

The curly-haired witch jumped up and enveloped the blond in a tight hug.

"Thank you," she whispered in his ear.

He squeezed her lightly and released her, running his hands over her protruding stomach and smiling. Hermione pulled him over to show him the pile of gifts for Scorpius. He smiled at the green and silver layette Daphne had purchased, and rolled his eyes good-naturedly at the similar set in maroon and gold, which Minerva had brought.

After the group of women left—Hermione promised each a lunch or tea date before Scorpius's arrival—the witch collapsed on the sofa.

"That was fun, but I am beat," she said, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Draco sat down next to her, and she shifted her head to lean on his shoulder. "I know you wanted to shop, but can we just take a nap?" She arched her back and then burrowed back into him.

He laughed lightly. "If you want. My plan was that we'd pick up the rest of what we need for Scorpius. I think we're OK on baby blankets, but we might need a crib and some other necessities, but if you're really that tired I have no problem laying around with you. Worst case scenario is we send Dottie or Lutine to the Manor for pieces in storage."

"Mmm," Hermione hummed. "Speaking of, any news on the Manor?"

"Bill Weasley is going to go by next week to check the wards and some monitoring spells he placed earlier this summer. Last check was that all the dark magic had been neutralized—the land is practically a clean slate. We won't be back before Scorpius gets here, but Yule is a definite possibility."

Hermione nodded and curled her feet up under her bottom. "We _should_ go get the rest of what we'll need. But you're so comfy…" She snuggled farther into his chest, and he lifted his arm around her.

"Then sleep. I'll wake you for tea." He ran his hands lightly over her curls, taking the end of and twirling it in his fingers. Hermione was asleep in moments, and he pulled her closer and leaned his head back on the sofa, enjoying the sound of her breathing. Depending on how tea went, this might bet he last time he was able to hold her like this. Hell, he might not even make it to their actual date.

When Hermione woke an hour and a half later, Draco was still awake and absently playing with her hair. She arched her back and pushed out her arms in front of her.

"Feel better?" Draco asked, his mouth just above her ear and nestled in her hair.

She smiled. " was exactly what I needed." She cast a quick _Tempus_. "What time is tea? And who is coming by?"

She felt Draco stiffen ever so slightly. "A half hour. And I think our guest should be a surprise." He ran his hand along her arm.

Hermione rolled her neck. "All right."

The sat together, in companionable silence, until almost thirty minutes later the Floo flared.

Hermione looked up into familiar brown eyes. "Neville?"

The tall Gryffindor blushed. "Hi Hermione. Draco."

Draco stood and shook the Gryffindor's hand; Neville responded in kind, if awkwardly. Hermione fought the urge to raise and eyebrow at the greeting. She knew the two were friendly, but a voluntary handshake? Instigated by Draco?

She offered Neville a kiss on the cheek before they all sat. Dottie popped in with tea service and finger sandwiches, and popped out just as quickly.

The longer tea went on, the more comfortable Hermione felt. She initially thought that tea would be a _thing_ —Draco organizing tea on their date, after all, didn't seem… well, particularly Draco-like. But then Neville showed up, and it seemed more and more like tea was a Hogwarts reunion; given how much time the three of them spent together during the spring semester, Hermione began to see tea as a last hoorah before the term started and Scorpius's arrival.

Hermione asked Neville about his Mastery project and the upcoming year. He got very excited about his project—a few of his hybrid variations were responding well to the British climate, and Neville was already thinking about how he and Snape might assess their usefulness in potions. He would also be taking over formal 6th year Herbology classes; seventh years would still participate in a NEWTs study group. With Neville on track to receive his Mastery the the next summer, Minerva hoped to have formal, structured classes for all seven years the following fall.

Once his first cup was finished, Neville poured another and leaned back in his chair. "Hermione, I actually wanted to speak with you before our date tomorrow, which is why I'm intruding on your day today."

"That's not quite…" started Draco, but Neville held up his hand, and, to Hermione's great shock, Draco pursed his lips. The blond glared at the other wizard, but stayed quiet nonetheless.

"When we all talked Sunday, you asked us to be honest about seeing other people. I wanted to let you know that I've been seeing someone for a while now. It was purely physical and very casual. But…" It seemed as he spoke Neville had lost his nerve.

Hermione, for her part, was unsurprised. She'd been waiting for Neville to tell her who he was seeing, as he was the one who brought it up at the meeting earlier that week. She had half expected for him to say he wanted to cancel their date on Sunday. She was dread the conversation—Neville was her calm in the storm, and he brought a peace to her that she felt with few others. Not even Harry could calm her in the way Neville's presence could.

When he referred to the casual nature of his relationship in the past tense, a knot formed in her stomach. "But now it's not casual."

Neville offered a wry smile. "I don't think so. At least, not on my part." Hermione looked down at her knees, and Neville's eyes flicked to Draco for a moment before settling back to Hermione.

"If you want to cancel tomorrow, I'll understand," she said softly. "I don't want you to feel obligated to try things out with me or anything." She looked up and smiled. "The only way any of this will work is if we support each other, and I want you to be happy, Neville."

His eyes went wide. "What? Oh, no, Hermione, I don't want to cancel tomorrow. But I want to be honest with you, because I think you might want to."

"Oh."

What would make her want to cancel? Parvati? She could handle that, she thought. She wasn't the biggest Parvati fan, but it's not like _she_ would be dating the girl too. Was he concerned that she couldn't handle him dating two witches?

"I will try to keep an open mind, Neville. After all, I'm also dating two other men, for now at least. As long as this witch understands…"

Draco huffed.

She looked over at him, her eyes narrowing.

"What?"

"Why does it have to be a witch?"

Hermione cocked her head. "It doesn't _have_ to be. I just assumed…" And then it clicked.

And the silence hung thick in the air. Draco covered his outburst with an aloof look, but his eyes betrayed his concern. Neville had, for all intents and purposes, stopped breathing.

She looked between the two wizards, her eyes wide. She finally settled on Neville. "You're seeing Draco?"

"Yes." His voice was soft, but firm.

She turned to the blond. "And you're seeing Neville?"

"Obviously" the blond drawled, channeling his godfather.

"And it's _not_ casual?" She looked back at Neville.

He shook his head slightly. "Not for me. Not anymore."

She looked back at Draco, who was staring at the other wizard with such an intensity that she felt like she was intruding on a private moment. There was a brightness to Draco's eyes that he was trying, for the life of him, to hide behind his mask of indifference. It wasn't necessarily a heated look that he was giving Neville, but rather one that was almost intimate.

"Me either," the blond said firmly. He turned to Hermione. "We thought it was important you know before either date, and that you heard it from both of us." He breathed deep. "I want to take you out, Hermione, but I'd also like to keep seeing Longbottom."

"Longbottom?" she asked before she could stop herself.

He shrugged. "Old habits are hard to break, and he doesn't seem to mind."

"You call me Hermione."

He smirked and gestured to her midsection. "You're carrying my heir. I figured if that didn't upgrade you to a first name, nothing would."

"But…"

"Forest for the trees, Hermione," interjected Neville, shooting a meaningful look at the blond.

But the last thing she wanted to do was come back to the conversation about the two men being involved with each other. She'd much rather continue her semantic argument with Draco. Nothing hinged on an argument over names. At the end of the day, she was who she was whether he called her Hermione or Granger.

And whether he went by Neville or Longbottom, he would still be Draco's… what?

"Are you boyfriends?" she asked.

Draco let out a laugh. "No. I mean, I haven't exactly taken him out publicly, if that's what you're asking. But we haven't defined 'what' we are."

"Lovers might be the best term," said Neville.

Her eyebrows went sky-high. "Love?" she squeaked.

"No!" Neville went bright red at Draco's reaction. "I mean… For Salazar's sake, we've just move from casual to whatever not casual is."

Her eyes glinted at the familiarity of the conversation. "Fuck buddies?"

He returned her glint with his own and smiled. "Perhaps at first. But now…" He glanced at Neville.

"Maybe more," the Gryffindor wizard said.

"Right," the blond affirmed.

Jealously flared in her. She had been fuck buddies with Draco. It had been wonderful, the kisses and touches and… And now she'd been replaced. All those kisses and touches and… that was all Neville's now. And had been his, apparently, for some time.

"And how long have you been seeing each other?"

Both men reddened. "April," said Neville.

Almost three months, she thought. She wondered how often they'd been together, whether the work Draco was doing at Hogwarts was really for his Mastery or to meet up with Neville in secret.

In secret. That got her. The idea of Draco and Neville together… well, she would admit that more than one fantasy of that had popped up in her mind, particularly when she was at her randiest. But that they'd been secretive about it, that they'd hidden it from her…

But did she have any right to know? She had asked them to be honest with her in November, but she had assumed things about their sexuality, about their dating habits, and about the wizarding world in general. Their conversation in February had alerted her to a whole aspect of this culture that she hadn't been privy to, both as a woman and a Muggle-born, but mostly as a friend of Harry Potter who had no time for relationships or sex while in school.

She didn't blame them for keeping it a secret. But would they ever have told her, had she not approached them? What if she'd waited—waited too long? What if it was already too late?

"I… I need to think," she said quietly. Draco didn't move—it was almost revealing how still he held himself—but she saw Neville eye's fall.

"It's not… I'm not saying no. I just. I just need to process this. It. Everything." Hermione stood up. "I…" She clapped her mouth shut. This wasn't Sirius helping Bill through full moons. From what Draco and Neville had intimated, from what she'd seen, this was emotional. There were feelings. Someone could get hurt. She didn't want to say something she'd regret, but she also couldn't admit to being OK—not after two months of secrecy.

Neville nodded and rose. "I understand. Why don't we postpone our date. I'll be available tomorrow if you think you're ready to talk. Or if you have any questions." She nodded. He took her hand and squeezed it. She smiled tentatively at him. He looked at Draco and offered the blond a sad smile, and then disappeared through the Floo.

She didn't turn around to face the blond. Not yet. "Draco…"

She could hear the rustling of his clothes; she felt him close to her as he stood. "You need to process Hermione. I"—his voice caught for just a moment—"I understand. It wouldn't be fair to take you out in light of all this. I'll be in my suite if you need me."

And then he, too, was gone. And as much as she needed to process, as many questions as she had, as much thinking as she knew she needed to do, as much jealousy and anger—perhaps misplaced anger, but anger nonetheless—as she had, she missed them both already.

And to think, the day had started off so beautifully, and with so much promise.


	27. Chapter 27

_A/N: Short but significant update. If you're headed back to school for the fall, bonne chance this semester!_

* * *

 _June 31st, 1999  
_ _The Leaky Cauldron_

"I'm not sure what the problem is," said Daphne, picking at her salad. "You don't seem to have any problem with Sirius and Bill."

Hermione glared at her blonde friend. She knew there was more than a small element of hypocrisy in the way she rationalized Sirius's relationship with Bill, and the way she was reacting to Draco and Neville. She _knew_ that.

But.

"There's emotions involved, Daphne," she responded tersely, glaring at her fish and chips. She knew she should be eating healthier, but she had been craving fried food for weeks and simply couldn't help herself. She'd been so good at home—salads and lean proteins and so much goddam kale. She'd allowed herself this one cheat while spending time with Daphne.

Who, of course, made her feel awful by ordering a kale salad. _No dressing_.

Who did that?

"Positive emotions. They're getting along—maybe too well for your comfort, but getting along nonetheless. They _like_ each other. They're OK with you seeing Sirius. Hell, Hermione, do you know how lucky you are?

"One of my patients can't be in the same room with _any_ of her cohort. She's written contracts that they'll obtain Polyjuice, lust potions, _and_ submit to a _Silencio_ each time they have sex. She's talking about suing for full custody of _all_ the children, she thinks the men are that unfit as parents—really as people. And of course, her partners are all pure-bloods, so you can imagine how that's going to go over.

"I think Marcus Flint has put Cormac McClaggen in St. Mungo's four times since the Procreation Act. They're in the same group, did you know that? And their witch… well, let me just say I'm so glad I'm not their counselor, because I'd probably hex her silly."

Hermione sighed. "Daph…"

"No, let me finish. Do you remember when we first had tea together, how you thought I was marrying Draco? You never came out and said it, but I could tell you were hurt. I can imagine you feel the same now that he's with Neville. But don't you see Hermione? He still wants you. They both do. They want to try just as much as you do." Daphne leaned back. "If you think about it, this is much less weird than you trying to date both Draco and _his father._ "

Hermione groaned. "Lucius and Draco. What was I thinking?"

Daphne laughed. "You were thinking that you don't want to end up alone, and that despite what the papers say that Lucius and Draco are good men. And, I know you're sick of me saying it, but I'm fairly positive you have the single best group dynamic of anyone in the Procreation Act."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Did Harry tell you that?"

Daphne blushed, but nodded. "He says Sirius was whistling when he came home from your date yesterday. He thinks the two of you are good together."

Hermione smiled at the thought of the picnic date she and Sirius had the day before in Muggle London. It had been awkward for people to congratulate them on 'their' upcoming bundle of joy, but Sirius had played along and if there had been a bit of disappointment in his eyes it had been mitigated by the longing she found in them too.

She hummed in response. "And how is Harry?"

Hermione knew they two had gone on a date that weekend—Harry had shown up at the townhouse beside himself with nerves right before he went to meet the Slytherin girl—but she hadn't yet connected with Daphne.

Daphne smiled. "He's good. We had dinner this weekend. Did he tell you?"

Hermione shook her head. "I knew he wanted to ask you out, but I haven't talked to him since the date."

Daphne nodded. "We went for sushi. He was so nervous he could barely hold his chopsticks. It was sweet. Once I got him talking about Teddy though, the nerves seemed to go away. He really has taken to this godfather thing admirably."

Hermione nodded. "He knows what it's like to be an orphan, but he is intent on giving Teddy a much better childhood than he had. His relatives were terrible people, so I think in any given situation he's simply doing the very opposite of whatever they would do. And he's lost so much"—her heart twisted for Ginny, whose death still tore at her own heart—"that he's clinging to what he has like a drowning man to a life raft."

"What's a life raft?" asked Daphne absently.

Fucking Muggle idioms. "Not important," said Hermione, waving her hand. "What I'm trying to say is that Harry has a lot of love to give. He's lost a lot, so he's hanging on to what he's got. But he's also searching, I think." She narrowed her eyes at Daphne. "I don't have to give you the best friend talk, do I?"

Daphne shook her head. "We're all still fragile from our different losses. I'm not naive enough to think this is like any other relationship—that Harry is like any other man." She smiled hopefully at Hermione. "I like to think I've got someone on the inside, as it were, to help me out."

Hermione smiled back. "Absolutely. But if you hurt him, Daph…"

"… I know, I know. Merlin, I can't even imagine what kind of curses you'd bust out to get revenge."

Hermione nodded. "Ron once told me I was scarier than Voldemort, so keep that in mind."

* * *

 _August 29th, 1999  
_ _Longbottom Hall_

She'd had to take a calming draught beforehand, but after her lunch with Daphne she'd reached out to Draco and Neville. After a long afternoon, filled with tense and awkward glances and more tears than she liked to admit, the three had come to an accord: she would date Neville and Draco separately, and the two wizards would continue to see each other.

It hadn't been easy. Though he'd been sorted into Slytherin, Draco was inclined to emotional outbursts and pouting. Hermione was so worried about the boys' relationship—that she was ruining it, that they were more invested in each other than her, that they were leading her on—that she closed up any time conversations with either of them became too intimate. Despite dating them, she was still scared of getting emotionally invested.

Interestingly, it was Neville who became the rock for them both. He calmly talked Hermione through her worries, blushing but not blinking at her questions about the wizards' relationship. At night, he'd hold Draco—he knew the blond was battling with his own feelings for both him and their witch, and that he was at least as upset about the situation as Hermione was.

Neville, for his part, was convinced he could have his cake and eat it too. Increasingly, he'd had fantasies of the three of them together, Hermione on her back with Draco inside of her, watching Neville as he took Draco from behind, his thrusts forcing the blonde into their witch. Or blowing Draco while Hermione sat on the Slytherin's face. Or nibbling on Hermione's breasts while she sat on Draco's cock. Or tying up the blonde and making him watch Neville take her. Really, he'd wanted to almost any instantiation of the three of them together.

But it wasn't just the sexual fantasies. He took the memories of tea and meals at Hogwarts, and reworked them to dreams of domesticated bliss: Draco coming in from teaching his dunderheads, Neville rubbing his arms and massaging away his stress while Hermione listened and talked Draco down from his irritation. He pictured Yule celebrations, and kids that looked like all three of them running around. He envisioned working with those kids in the garden, and watching Draco teach them all how to fly, and Hermione reading to them at bedtime. He woke up in the mornings, and ached for the feel of Draco's arm around his waist and the smell of Hermione's hair.

And since he'd started embracing these fantasies, he'd started laying the groundwork to bring the three of them closer to that reality.

Over the course of two months, Neville had acclimated to a physical relationship with Hermione mostly relegated to innocent kisses and hand-holding. It was hard to restrain himself—Hermione pregnant was beautiful. She said she felt like a beached whale—Katie had said the same thing before Artie was born—but Neville thought she was incredible. He occasionally dreamed of Hannah looking the same way, waking with tears in his eyes. He tried to reconcile that his love for Hannah was not compromised by his relationships with Draco and Hermione. He would always love Hannah. But things were different, and she would want him to love again.

Well, maybe not Draco. But she wasn't here so he could ask her, and he chose to think her Hufflepuff kindness would beat out Draco's dark history.

Hermione had always been a force of nature to him—bold and driven and whip-smart—and seeing her creating life on top of it was… well, frankly it was hot.

He'd tried to be a gentleman, keeping himself to innocent touches and kisses that could be be described as 'pecks' but it was getting harder and harder. Spending time with her had reminded him of all the reasons he'd loved her at school, and know on top of it she had made it clear she was also into him.

Hermione Granger was interested in awkward, clumsy Neville Longbottom.

She smiled when he went on an orchid-related tangent. She laughed at his stories of besting the Carrows seventh year. She flushed when he complimented her.

Earlier tonight, when he said she looked beautiful, she flushed up to her ears and he took a chance. He kissed her—and not a little peck either.

Which is how he ended up with his hand caressing the side of her breast, nibbling on her neck, while she quietly moaned. He reveled in her smell—ink and parchment, always, with hints of rosemary and a dash of cinnamon. Like a library and home, all wrapped up in one.

Her breasts, bigger from her pregnancy, were soft and smooth and it was everything he could do to keep his mouth from discovering if she tasted like cinnamon everywhere.

He continued to nibble on her neck, but her moan of pleasure changed tenor.

"Ohhhh," Hermione cried, and he saw her flinch.

"Hermione? Did I do something wrong?" He pulled back and moved his hands toward her waist, meeting her own hands which she'd put on her hips.

She shook her head. "Sorry Neville. I should have told you—I've been having Braxton Hicks for a few days now. It's nothing to worry about, but sometimes they can catch me off guard.

He frowned. "What are Braxton Hicks?"

"False labor. I'm having contractions, but they're not increasing in intensity or frequency so it's not _actual_ labor. It's totally normal."

He offered a small smile. "Are you getting excited? Nervous?"

She returned the expression. "Anxious, mostly. I'm ready for him to be here—I'm ready to meet him. I feel like once he's here it will be real… not that it's not, I mean, of course it's real, it's just…"

But she cut herself off, wincing again and holding her hips.

"Hermoine?"

"Yeah. I was just saying I'm anxious to meet him. To be a mum." She leaned in and kissed him, softly at first. She smiled into the kiss, and tentatively bit his lower lip. "And just think—in not too long it'll be _your_ baby."

He groaned and tried to remember that he was taking things slow so he could do this right—by both Hermione and Draco—but the thought of her pregnant with his baby was enticing. He gently pulled her closer, but stopped when she winced again.

"Hermione, are you sure you're OK?"

She wanly smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I've still got two weeks to go, and most first pregnancies run late, so I'm _sure_ it's just Braxton Hicks. But I should probably get going anyway. I know you've got a big day this week, with the school year starting and you'll likely want to get work done at Hogwarts tomorrow."

He nodded. "For both classes and my project." He stood and offered her his hand. "But just because I'm heading back doesn't mean we have to stop our dates. I hope you'll still join me for dinner next Sunday?"

She flushed. "Of course. I look…"

But she never finished her sentence. Her eyes went wide and her mouth formed a little 'o'. She stared past Neville, and then made eye contact with him, terror and shame and embarrassment and fear all evident.

"Hermione? What's wrong?"

She looked at him and then looked down. He followed her gaze, where a wet spot had formed at her feet. He could see fluid running down her legs from underneath her grey skirt, all the way into her black flats.

They both looked up and made eye contact. "Neville. I need you to take me to St. Mungo's. I think my water just broke."

* * *

 _A/N: Fun fact about childbirth! Only about 10% of women have their water break before any signs of birth. Many women have to break their waters after admission to the hospital and, on rare occasions, babies are born with the amniotic sac intact! I never had Braxton Hicks, but many women end up at the hospital in false labor, so I imagine the inverse is true—many women spend the early parts of labor prolong a trip to the hospital because they believe it's false labor._

 _TL;DR: Pregnancy, childbirth, etc. are weird and super-individual to each woman._

 _Next chapter - We're having a baby! (FREAKING FINALLY.)_


	28. Chapter 28 - A Malfoy Moment

_So... long time no chapter? Honestly, this was hard for me to write. I wanted it to be from Draco's POV, mostly, but my own experiences with childbirth kept inserting themselves in unproductive ways. I'm hoping it came out OK._

 _Also, I got a bit sidetracked when I was bit by another, much smaller plot bunny. It's a mostly lighthearted AU where Sirius gets thrown in the future, which messes up all kinds of canon events, called_ The Future Imperfect _, if you want to check it out. It's a little over halfway done._

 _I worked hard to get it out today, because it's Hermione Granger's birthday AND my kid's birthday! (I have YEARS of HP-themed birthday parties in my future, and I'm so pumped about that.) So for me to publish a chapter about childbirth today is pretty appropriate._

 _The next few chapters I have planned will be moving forward on the following things soon: Hermione's various relationships, Becca's situation, what's going on at the Manor, and a few other nuggets I've dropped along the way. Also, be on the lookout for some lemon-y lemonade goodness soon (because magic means we don't have 6-8 weeks of painful, painful recovery)!_

 _As always, thanks for reading my silly little corner of the Internet. Feedback is always appreciated, but I'm glad you're here regardless! xx_

* * *

 _August 29th, 1999  
_ _St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries_

Draco had to exercise every last bit of Slytherin self-control to keep from letting the entire hospital feel his emotions. He was sure at any moment his magic would break loose and engulf the entire hospital in overwhelming joy and fear and happiness and apprehension and delight and anxiety and profound thankfulness.

In his slightly shaking arms, he held his son: Scorpius Draco Malfoy. Just under four kilograms, with a shock of the Malfoy white-blond hair and bright grey eyes that stared up at Draco from the blue muslin swaddle in which the babe was encased. After his first brief feed at the breast of his mother, who had cried quiet tears with a smile on her face as she held her child, Scorpius had been cleaned by the medi-witches. After Healer Franklin had pronounced Scorpius fully inoculated against the plague and Healer-Trainee Shaw had checked the other vitals—10 fingers, 10 toes, a healthy, developing magical core—Becca had promptly placed the baby in Draco's arms.

Terrified, Draco had taken his son with all the bravery that a first-time, eighteen-year-old father could: that was to say, very little. Becca encouraged him, her warm demeanor and words of encouragement heartening the young father. He sat on a chair near Hermione's bed as the Healers and medi-witches bustled about, cleaning the room and Hermione through a combination of Muggle and magical means.

Draco ignored it all. He only had eyes for Scorpius, the completely miraculous being that was a combination of him and the incredible witch lying in the bed next to him. In this small child was part him, part Hermione, and, at the same time, something completely new. He felt like he would be crushed by the weight of responsibility and the outpouring of affection he felt in that moment. He now understood every moment of fear his father had felt on his behalf, and could only imagine what Lucius had gone through protecting him in the war. He wanted to find his father, thank him for all his protection throughout the war, and then hex him for putting him in Voldemort's line of sight in the first place.

You, my son, he thought as he gazed at Scorpius, you will never fear for anything. I will protect you from the world, from evil wizards and hateful ideology and anything that might even remotely think about hurting you.

Full from his first feed, Scorpius's eyes grew heavy and soon the baby was asleep in his father's arms.

"Draco?" Hermione whispered from the bed.

"I love you," the blond blurted out.

Hermione smiled, her own eyes mirroring her son's as she began to come down from her adrenaline rush. "He loves you too, Draco."

"No, I love _you_ Hermione." He curled Scorpius into the crook of one arm and reached out to caress her face, cool to the touch from the dried sweat from pushing. She was red, though whether that was from the labor or from his words he was unsure. "When you wake up from a long, well-deserved rest, I will tell you in great detail how incredible you are and how happy you make me and how very much I love you. But for now, you need to sleep." He glanced down at Scorpius and, with a grin, added, "Mum."

She sighed, a content look on her face, and closed her eyes.

Draco knew that there was a throng of people waiting to meet Scorpius. Neville had brought Hermione to the hospital and had not yet left, and Lucius had accompanied Draco to the hospital when they'd received the Gryffindor's Patronus. Harry and Sirius had arrived shortly thereafter, and Daphne after that.

Initially, Draco had stayed in the waiting room with the rest of them, drinking as much tea as Daphne could put in front of him and bouncing his knee anxiously. He had listened absently as Neville, Harry, and Sirius chatted about anything and everything, while Daphne spoke in low tones with Lucius about the ongoing developments at Malfoy Manor. However, after a few hours, Becca had bustled out in her Healer-Trainee robes, eyes scanning and locking on Draco quickly.

"She's moving into transition," she told Draco. "It won't be long now. She's asking for you."

"For me?" Draco's eyes went wide. Becca nodded.

"Yes. I know it's not standard in the wizarding world, but Muggle men are often present in the room when their children are born. You won't need to do anything except support and encourage her. Can you do that?"

Draco looked uneasy, and Becca frowned. "If you can't, Malfoy, tell me now. You'll be more hindrance than help if you upset her or get in the way."

Draco had a fleeting thought that this version of Becca—self-assured, strong, telling _him_ what to do—was wildly different than the young girl he'd met months before at dinner with Theo and Severus. She was still every inch a Hufflepuff, but her meek and mousy nature had been replaced by professionalism and a strong loyalty to her friend and patient.

He also saw echoes of Theo's measured, judgmental stare in the young witch's eyes.

And then Neville was next to him, subtly taking his hand and squeezing. "He'll be fine," the Gryffindor told Becca. He caught Draco's eye and smiled. "Go. Go meet your son."

When Draco followed the brunette witch into the hospital room, he had not expected to hear Hermione practically growling through a contraction. Her growl turned into a cry that tore at Draco's chest and made his stomach drop.

"What is going on?" Draco cried, rushing to her side. "What's wrong?"

The primary Healer, an older, slightly overweight wizard, chuckled quietly. "Nothing is wrong, Mr. Malfoy. Everything is proceeding as it should. Childbirth is a tough process."

"Then give her a pain potion! Or a pain relief spell!" said Draco. Hermione grabbed his hand and squeezed, and he resolved to track down some pain potion for himself just as soon as she let go.

"No!" cried Hermione. "No more potions! No more spells!" She breathed heavy a few more times and then Draco heard her sigh in relief. "It's OK, Draco."

"It is most certainly not," he said. "Hermione, I think you broke my hand!"

She laughed and then flinched. "I did not, you big baby. And any more magical pain relief will make this take longer. I'd rather work through the pain. I've had… worse!" she grunted out as another contraction rolled through her.

He closed his eyes and thought back to her screaming on the floor of the Manor's elegant drawing room at the wrong end of his crazy aunt's wand. He remembered the cries of _Crucio!_ as Hermione's cries bounced off the tastefully-decorated walls, as he cringed from his mother's side, clad in his picture-perfect robes, and watched his schoolmate suffer a curse he knew all-too-well. The juxtaposition of the wealthy pure-blood elite and the actions of Voldemort's right hand had been too much for Draco, and he'd often thought he'd have given up everything-the money, the power, the social clout-to erase Voldemort from history. Bella, the crazy bitch, could go too. He was all too glad when Molly Weasley had obliterated her.

The memories of that night still too fresh in his memory, Draco realized that if Hermione said she'd had worse than what she was going through now, he'd damn well believe her.

He'd stayed next to her as she pushed and pushed, watched as the Healers and medi-witches magicked away blood and fluids, wiped her brow with a cool cloth, and whispered words of encouragement as she groaned and cried through each subsequent push. And his heart had gotten tighter and tighter as the pushes came closer and closer and the cries got louder and louder.

Hermione's face was red and sweat was dripping from her brow. Her curls, heavy with wetness, were matted against her head and the pillow. Her knees were up in stirrups, and her gown had fallen to her midsection. Draco was trying to focus on her face, but he kept being drawn to her bump, which was concealing the space between her thighs where most of the 'action' was happening.

Draco was sure many things were happening around him—he could hear the voices of the St. Mungo's staff and the faint murmur of spells; he could see the movement of green robes in the stark, white room. But all he could focus on was Hermione, breathing and groaning and breathing and groaning and pushing and pushing and pushing.

And one moment there were the two of them in the room, and in the next there were three—the two of them joined by a small, crying baby that wasn't there one moment and appeared in the next. And in that moment, everything—Draco's entire world—had changed.

And now, here he was, his sleeping son in his arms and the woman he loved resting in the bed next to him. His father was waiting for him with—what did he call the group of people in the waiting room? Daphne was his friend, Potter was his former-nemesis-turned-not-enemy, Sirius was _also_ dating the woman he loved, and Neville was…

Neville was supposed to be here.

Draco tore his eyes from the child in front of him to seek out his wife's Hufflepuff friend. "Becca?"

The Healer-Trainee turned, a cloth in her hands as she wiped herself clean from the first birth in which she had assisted. "Yes, Draco?"

"I'd like to see my Father and Neville, but I'm not sure Hermione would want them in here."

"'s fine," the witch mumbled from the bed, shifting a bit. She did not open her eyes. "Could I have some water, please?"

One of the medi-witches came forward with a small cup of water, and Becca disappeared out the door, only to reappear moments later with the two wizards in question. Neville stayed at the door, while Lucius came forward with a restrained smile on his face. "Draco?"

The young wizard stood and held out the bundle in his arms to his father. "Father, meet Scorpius Draco Malfoy. Your grandson."

Lucius took the small bundle and the restraint in his face disappeared. The Malfoy patriarch smiled—a bright, broad smile. "Scorpius. Every inch a Malfoy." He looked up at Draco. "Congratulations, son."

Draco looked at his father, exhausted but happy, and then glanced over Lucius's shoulder. Neville was still in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a small smile on his face. Draco clapped his father's arm, and while Lucius sat in Draco's vacated seat, grandson cradled in his arms, Draco moved to his Gryffindor lover.

Neville wrapped the blond in a warm hug and chuckled. "Congratulations, Dad. How's Mum?"

"Sleepy, but OK," called Hermione from the bed. "Come in, Neville. Come meet Scorpius."

Neville threw his arm over Draco's shoulder. The gesture could be read as friendly, which is how Draco hoped Lucius read it, but the blond desperately wanted to curl up into Neville's chest, to be engulfed in the Gryffindor's arms in ways that would leave no question of their relationship. But Draco restrained himself as he and Neville walked further into the room.

This. This was his family. Lucius, Scorpius, Neville, and Hermione.

Draco smiled as Neville's eyes grew wide at the sight of Scorpius. "Merlin, that's a baby," Neville whispered.

"Would you like to hold your godson?" asked Draco.

Neville turned to Draco, shocked. Seeing only the blond's grin, Neville turned back to Hermione, who was also smiling, albeit tiredly, at the Gryffindor.

"Really?" asked Neville quietly, more moved that he was prepared to admit.

"No one better," said Hermione from the bed. "We both concur."

Draco took Scorpius from his father and held out the small bundle to Neville, who looked overwhelmed. The tall boy took the babe from Draco, who then moved to the bed to check on Hermione.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, looking down at the witch.

"Tired," she said. "But happy. Draco, we _made_ that. Isn't that incredible."

"It is," he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "He is. And _you_ are. Do they need to move you to another room?"

She shook her head slightly. "It's the newest thing: all in one. They've already hauled out everything they don't need anymore, and they'll bring in a bassinet shortly. The sofa can be transfigured into a bed as well, if you want to stay."

Draco nodded, staring into her brown eyes. He couldn't imagine leaving them for any moment in the near future. "When do we go home?"

"Maybe tomorrow. They'll want to run a few diagnostics on both me and Scorpius, and they have to make sure the regeneration potion they gave me does the work it's supposed to." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Becca said I'd be back in the sack in no time, but I feel like I could sleep for a week."

"Whatever you want," said Draco, kissing her again. He didn't think he'd ever stop kissing her. Sweaty as she was, he didn't think he'd ever seen anything more beautiful. "I'm going to take him to see everyone soon. Want a cuddle before we go?"

She shook her head. "Let me sleep. He has more than enough people to hold him right now. But he should feed in another two hours, so make sure to come back by then."

He leaned in for one last kiss, whispered 'I love you' so softly that only she could hear, and he smiled at the blush that rose on her cheeks. She squeezed his hand, settled herself in the bed, and closed her eyes.

Draco stood, joining his father in admiring Scorpius, who was still sleeping in Neville's arms.

"Shall we go introduce my son to the world?" Draco asked, smiling at Neville.

Neville glanced at the bed, to make sure Hermione was asleep and wouldn't feel neglected, and then nodded. Draco took Scorpius into his arms, his son sighing quietly but staying asleep, and the three men made for the throng of well-wishers in the waiting room.

The waiting group had increased slightly: Severus and Theo had both arrived, as had a small contingent of Weasleys. Molly Weasley, to the surprise of no one, rushed toward Draco and immediately began cooing over Scorpius. Draco tried to remain gracious as his own friends and godfather let the overbearing woman have a moment.

"Congratulations, Draco," Harry said when Draco stopped by him. Daphne, sitting to Harry's right, simply held out her arms, and Draco smiled as he gingerly laid the baby in his good friend's embrace.

Sirius, who'd been sitting on the other side of Harry, stared wide-eyed for a moment at Scorpius, still sleeping but starting to stir in Daphne's care, before glancing up at the blond. "That's a baby," the Marauder said, eyes wide.

Draco chuckled. "That was also my reaction." Sirius just blinked, and then looked back at the baby.

"How's Hermione?" asked Harry, ignoring the amazed Animagus on his one side and the cooing witch on the other. "Is she OK?"

Draco nodded. "She's resting now. I'm not sure she would've come up with the Procreation Act if she'd already had a baby. Merlin, what witches go through. I thought she broke my hand a number of times." He shook out his hand a bit and stretched his fingers. "Still not _completely_ sure she didn't. But you know Hermione. She came out the other side with the most perfect result possible."

At that point, Neville came up behind Draco, beaming. "Isn't my godson great?"

"Godfather?" asked Sirius, looking up. "That's great, Neville! Someone's got to make sure mini-Malfoy has some fun. If you need godfather lessons, I'm your wizard!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Sirius, I love you, but you missed practically all of my childhood."

Sirius shrugged. "Details."

"Oh, I think someone is awake!" said Daphne. "Here, Draco. I think it's Daddy time."

Harry made a face as Daphne held the baby up to her friend. "Yeah, definitely time for Dad. Or Neville." Harry turned to Sirius and grinned. "What are the rules on godfathers and nappy changes?"

Sirius looked up at Neville, terror in his gaze. "Run while you can."

Neville looked at Draco, who was alternating between looking at his lover and down at his fussing, smelly baby. "How bad can it be?"


	29. Chapter 29

_A/N: Miss you all. Sorry for the long wait, RL has hit like a ton of bricks._

 _Thanks for the feedback everyone! I'm really digging the comments, especially the comments and suggestions about story progression and relationship dynamics. I'm trying to make this fairly realistic, which means lots of bumbling between the characters. They're_ _still teenagers (well, Sirius is a teenager at heart, right?) so I imagine it takes time to sort all this out. I appreciate your patience with them, as well as me, as we troop through this little group's wacky situation!_

 _As always, thank you for reading (and reviewing!) xx_

* * *

 _August 30th, 1999  
_ _The Daily Prophet_

 _NEWEST MALFOY BORN EARLY  
_ _Whose baby will Hermione Granger have next?_

 _by Andy Smudgley_

 _In what looks to be the first of the Procreation Act births, Hermione Granger gave birth to Scorpius Draco Malfoy, son of Draco Lucius Malfoy, yesterday at St. Mungo's. The child arrived approximately two weeks before his expected due date._

 _"They're over the moon," gushed Daphne Greengrass, a close friend of the family. "Both Draco and Hermione and just thrilled."_

 _Aside from the early arrival, Scorpius's birth had no complications and both he and Miss Granger are expected to be released from St. Mungo's tomorrow._

 _"Early births could be a side effect of the inoculations or fertility treatments, or Ms. Granger could have simply delivered early," said Healer Frank MacMillan, who has been supervising plague inoculations for pregnant women. "We simply won't know until more witches begin giving birth. However, even with the slightly early delivery, Scorpius is completely healthy."_

 _Scorpius will join the Malfoy family, consisting of Draco and Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, both former Death Eaters under Voldemort. Both wizards escaped Azkaban due to their cooperation with the Ministry of Magic in the aftermath of the Second Wizarding War._

 _Scorpius's birth was attended by almost all of Granger's Procreation Group, including the Malfoy Patriarch, Sirius Black, Neville Longbottom, and Harry Potter. The only missing member was Frank Longbottom, who's tenure in St. Mungo's Janus Thickey ward has allowed for a stay of involvement in the Act._

 _When asked about the arrival of Scorpius, Scion Longbottom had this to say: "We are all thrilled for Draco and Hermione. They—really, all of us—have been working hard to develop relationships that will enable the best possible experience for all our future children."_

 _He did not comment as to who the father of Granger's next child would be._

 _"We decided Draco would be first as a group. I imagine that we'll decide who goes next as a group, but we have not had the opportunity to discuss that yet."_

 _And when we know, dear readers, so too will you._

* * *

 _September 17th, 1999  
_ _Malfoy Townhouse_

"You need a break," Becca told her after a brief visit earlier in the week.

Becca had never been more right. Between nappies and feedings and managing Draco, who was stressing her out at least as much as Scorpius was, Hermione was beyond exhausted. She was grateful for all the helpful hands, she really was-though she never got a moment of Circe-forsaken privacy anymore—but somehow, despite the help, she was still bone-tired.

Perhaps it was all the feeding, as Scorpius had turned out to be insatiable. When he wasn't feeding, she found herself leaking everywhere, so much was the supply she had to create to keep him sated. She'd long ago given up any concerns about breastfeeding in mixed company; the only person who seemed moderately uncomfortable with it was Theo, who, upon realizing what was happening, had turned away from her and engaged Draco in a conversation about the Quidditch for the entire length of the feed. Becca had rolled her eyes at his discomfort.

"Pure-bloods," she muttered under her breath, though she smiled at Theo's distance.

Hermione shrugged. "He's just uncomfortable, which is fine. I think it's less a pure-blood thing and more a wizard thing—he's trying to respect you, me, and Draco by not looking. None of my wizards seem to have a problem with it, after all."

In fact, Draco, Neville, and Sirius all found it hard to _not_ watch her during the feeds. When she approached them all about it, they'd all given different responses. Draco had blushed and said it was something primal in watching _her_ feed _his son_. Neville and Sirius had both intimated they were imagining their own children at her breast, although Sirius had taken it even further.

"You must know how hot you look to all of us right now," Sirius said, finishing the last of the wine he had from their dinner in her suite. It had been three weeks since Scorpius's birth, only a few days since Becca and Theo's visit, and this had been their first opportunity to have an evening together without anyone else around.

She just blinked in response.

She didn't feel hot. She felt the opposite of hot. She felt gross, despite the magical healing that had her completely physically healed.

"Hermione, you are dating three pure-blood wizards. Your fertility has been proven, and your maternal instinct is obvious; those are qualities we are trained to look for in a partner. You have always been gorgeous, but your breasts have grown and… well, you simply look good enough to eat. Even Scorpius knows it." He laughed.

She frowned. "Did you just mix a metaphor about my sexual appeal with a reference to my son."

Sirius looked up, thinking, and then flushed. "Yeah. Woops. That's not what I meant. It's hard to explain."

She nodded. "I get it, I think. Draco sounded like a bit of a caveman when I asked him about it, so I imagine its similar for you and Neville."

Sirius nodded. "Yup." He pulled the small witch near him and kissed her lightly on the mouth. "I've missed you, Hermione."

She smiled at the animagus and nuzzled into his shoulder. "I've missed you too, Sirius. I'm glad you were able to come by tonight. I'm sorry I look a fright."

"Like I said, you always look good kitten." His eyes raked over her black leggings and long, royal blue tunic. The buttons on the tunic, which went from her clavicle to her sternum, where half unbuttoned from Scorpius's earlier feed. Her hair was thrown in a messy bun on her head, her wand nestled in it for easy access; it wouldn't do to keep it anywhere in Scorpius's reach, especially not when his little fingers were grasping anything they could catch.

"I'm afraid I won't be very good company this evening," she said as Sirius led her to a nearby sofa. "Lucius is watching Scorpius so Draco and I can have some time to ourselves, but I'm just utterly knackered."

Sirius nodded and pulled her into his chest. "That's understandable. How are things going with Draco?"

She closed her eyes. "They're going well. Should I… do you really want to hear about the other men I'm dating?"

Sirius shrugged. "No, but they're not going anywhere, are they?"

Hermione blushed and shook her head. "No, Sirius, not anytime soon at least."

He paused his hand. "And me?"

She squeezed her arm around his midsection. "Not unless _you_ want to. I'm quite fond of you."

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Good. I have no intentions of going anywhere."

* * *

"Holy Merlin!" cried Draco, spilling into Neville's mouth.

The Gryffindor sucked away the last of Draco's cum, looked up at the blond, and swallowed.

"Fuck," muttered Draco, falling back on his bed. "That was…"

"Much deserved," finished Neville, crawling up lay next to his lover. He ran his fingers through Draco's hair. "And that's all we'll do tonight."

Draco closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "Thank Merlin. I love you, Neville, but I'm much too exhausted shag."

Neville's hands froze, and he stared down at the content Slytherin.

"What?" Neville's voice was quiet and confused.

Draco opened his eyes and glared at Neville. "Seriously? I've got a newborn, Longbottom, and this is my first night of freedom in two weeks. As much as I'd like to fuck you through this very comfortable bed, the likelihood of me moving from this spot anytime soon is nil." The blond curled into Neville's chest and threw his arm around the Gryffindor's waist. "Do you mind that much?"

He hadn't even realized he'd said it, Neville thought. He must be so tired he doesn't even know what he's saying.

"No, not at all. Where's Hermione tonight?" asked Neville, moving his hand from Draco's head to trace small circles on the wizard's back. He wouldn't focus on Draco's admission, wouldn't think about the fact that he'd said 'I love you Neville.' He'd said 'I love you.' He'd used Neville's first name.

Draco sighed again, and Neville could hear the exhaustion in his voice. "With Black. Potter and Daphne are watching Teddy, so Hermione could have some time with him. They haven't had time just the two of them since before Scorpius was born."

Neville could hear the frustration in Draco's voice. "And how do you feel about that?"

"Do we have to talk about this now? I'm so tired I can barely think, and you just sucked out the last of my energy through my cock."

Neville chuckled. "No, we don't. It's just… I should probably be jealous of Hermione's time with Sirius—even of her time with you—but I'm not. Is that weird?"

"Yes." Draco kicked his trousers and pants from his ankles and crawled to the top of the bed. He shimmied under the covers while Neville threw off his shirt and trousers before joining him. "It's weird. Because I want to punch him in his stupid face every time he looks at her. How can you not?"

Neville turned to put his hand on Draco's hip, dangerously near the wizard's cock, and the blond's eye glanced down as though he could see it under the covers.

"I know, I know, too tired," said Neville. "What is it about Sirius that bothers you?"

Draco frowned tiredly. "She's mine."

Neville's eyes widened. "Oh."

Draco slid his arm around Neville's waist. "You're mine too."

"Greedy," the Gryffindor laughed, leaning in to kiss Draco. "What about when Hermione and I spend time together?"

"That's different." Draco's eyes were closed, and Neville could tell he was minutes from sleep.

"How?"

"You're both mine," he whispered, and a moment later he was asleep.

Neville stared at the exhausted wizard. Even the dark circles under his eyes from sleepless nights didn't take away from his appeal. Neville squeezed Draco's hip and drew his hand up along his torso and onto his chest. He traced the small, pale nipples and caressed the fine blond hair that covered Draco's chest.

Merlin, but was this man beautiful.

And surprisingly caring. When they'd started this, it had been for release. They were two sexually-frustrated teenage wizards with a penchant for blow jobs and easy access to one another. Somehow, slowly, that had morphed into a tentative friendship, coupled with fantastic sex. Neville had been glad when the childhood animosity between them had disappeared. Occasionally Neville would bring up a past slight that had Draco frowning, ashamed of his past behavior, but Neville was always quick to forgive.

After all, their world had changed drastically, and Neville would take what love he could get where he could get it. The fact that it was apparently at the side and in the bed of Draco bloody Malfoy continued to surprise him, but the ongoing shock was always a positive thing.

And now Neville was the godfather to Draco's child, and Neville was desperately hoping that Draco's earlier slip of the tongue was more than just a placating phrase.

Neville settled into the bed and leaned in to kiss Draco's jaw, his lips slowly making their way to the blond's ear. He whispered so quietly that, had he been awake, even Draco might have missed it: "I love you, too."

* * *

Hours later, Hermione left a sleeping Sirius to nurse her infant son. She sat in the nursery rocker, rested by a short but fulfilling sleep, and opened her robe to the hungry infant. She had cast a soft _Lumos_ , and the light was enough that she could see but not so much as completely wake her son and prevent him from going back down after the feed. She rocked gently, humming the same song her mother had sung to her when she was a child. Hermione knew she was no songbird, but the sound of her voice kept Scorpius calm, and before long he was sated and asleep in her arms.

She waited a moment, trying to relish the feeling of the small child. She knew, someday, she'd probably become inured to this experience. She didn't imagine she would still be as amazed at the fragility and sweetness of her children after the fourth or fifth pregnancy. So, despite her exhaustion and frustration, she was trying to relish each moment of Scorpius's infancy—from the pain of breastfeeding to the adorable way his mouth hung just barely open as he breathed.

Finally, she laid him in the cot, kissed his soft blond hair and whispered her goodnights to him. When she turned, she found a smirking Draco leaning against the nursery door. He put a finger to his lips and motioned for her to follow him. They walked in silence to the kitchens, where Lutine had made two cups of tea.

"What are you doing up?" Hermione admonished quietly. "One of us should get some sleep!"

"I just came in to check on him. I woke up and realized it'd been too long since I'd seen him. Plus, I feel surprisingly rested."

She nodded. "Me too, although we shouldn't stay up too late. He'll wake in another three hours or so, and he may be up for the morning at that point, and you're on morning duty today."

Draco sipped his tea and nodded. "I know. But once I saw you in there, I couldn't leave. It was picture perfect—everything I'd imagined about having a son, all wrapped up in one moment."

She blushed at the awe in his voice and changed the topic. "Was Neville able to get away for a bit?" she asked in a soft voice. Neville didn't have the benefit of leave at Scorpius's birth, and so he had no reprieve from his obligations at Hogwarts.

Draco nodded. "He left after dinner. He'll have to go back midday tomorrow to supervise some detentions, and he's devoted Sunday to his orchids, but we had some time together this evening. Perhaps you'd be able to see him in the morning?"

She nodded. "I'd like that."

Draco looked at his teacup. "Will that interfere with Black's visit?"

Hermione shook her head. "Sirius has to watch Teddy in the morning. Harry has the weekend shift, and Daphne is doing home visits—almost all of the witches she supervises are slated to give birth in the next three months."

Draco pursed his lips and nodded. Hermione could see that he wanted to say something but was holding himself back.

"We made a spectacular baby," Hermione finally said, smiling.

Draco huffed. "Of course we did. Scorpius is perfect, just like his father." He slid his hand onto hers. "Just like his mother."

Hermione chuckled. "It only took you eight years to realize it."

He looked down avoiding eye contact and desperately trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Perhaps if I'd recognized it ten months ago you would've been in my bed tonight."

There it was. The jealousy Hermione knew was festering between Draco and Sirius, the jealousy she felt knowing that tall, handsome Neville was currently asleep in Draco's bed. Probably naked.

"Draco…"

"I'm sorry, Hermione. But I can't help feeling like it's wrong for you to be with Black. You just gave birth to _my_ child. Mine. You should be with me."

"And where would that put Neville?"

"I don't know!" Draco slammed down his teacup and the china rattled almost as loudly as his hushed exclamation. "I don't know," he said, much softer. "Neville called me greedy earlier. I guess I am. I want you both. I want you both. It's selfish, I know, but I want you both."

She smiled. "It is selfish. But you can't help to feel what you feel. And if you're selfish, what does that make me? I'm not ready to give any of you up yet, Draco. Not Sirius, but not you either. And certainly not Neville. I mean, who would've thought our first year that he would end up looking like _that_?"

Draco smirked. "Well, we can't all be dashingly good looking from the cradle. Of course, Malfoys always have been, but that's just our burden to bear."

Hermione smacked him playfully. "Prat."

"Shrew." He leaned in and kissed her cheek, and she sighed.

"This shrew should get back to bed while she can." She groaned as she hoisted herself out of the chair. Draco quickly rose and took her hand in his, walking her down the hall to her suite.

"I love you, Hermione," he said, hugging her at the door and kissing her softly.

She returned the embrace. "I know, Draco. I love you too. But we're still figuring out what kind of love that is, aren't we?"

He nodded. "You're the mother of my son. And, greedy as it is, I want you to be more."

She put her hand on his cheek. "We'll figure it out, Draco. Let's not rush just because Scorpius is here. I think we should see how we all do with another pregnancy before we make any major decisions."

He nodded and bid her goodnight. When he crawled back into his bed, he stared down at the tall, gangly Gryffindor in his bed. It felt _right_ for Neville to be there, but an ache in Draco's chest reminded him that it felt _wrong_ without Hermione. He imagined himself in a Gryffindor sandwich, Neville at his back holding him, his own arms around Hermione, likely being choked by her hair.

He sighed as he thought about Hermione's words. What kind of love did he feel for her. He loved her for the son she had given him, but did he feel the same way about her that he felt about…

And his eyes popped open, as Draco Malfoy realized he had fallen in love with Neville bloody Longbottom.


	30. Chapter 30

_September 21st, 1999_  
 _Malfoy Townhouse_

"Do you think it was a mistake to not couple the Procreation Act with some kind of Marriage Law?"

Draco looked up from his notes and eyed the witch across the table. Scorpius was dozing in a basket a few feet away, sated from a recent feed. Draco and Hermione had taken the brief respite—from gazing at their son, from entertaining well-intentioned but overwhelming visitors, and from the bone-aching exhaustion that plagues first-time parents—and decided to spend a few hours re-acquainting themselves with their research and plotting new timelines for their Mastery projects. Draco, especially, was anxious to create a new, extended timeline: he found himself wanting to spend more time with Scorpius than he originally expected, and he was loathe to let the house-elves do the lion's share of child-rearing, as his father had intimated was the norm.

He bit back his initial retort to Hermione's question, one which was fueled by his increasing possessiveness regarding the curly-haired witch. Instead, he evenly responded, "Why do you ask?"

She looked down. "I'm getting nervous about my next pregnancy. I mean, I'm grateful for the potions that have me already fully recovered. Did you know Muggles take up to two months to recovery from birth? And that's not accounting for any psychological recovery a woman might have from a particularly traumatic birth." She paused, biting her lower lip and furrowing her brow. "But even fully recovered, thinking about another baby already feels too soon. And I wonder if that pressure to rush could have been avoided with a Marriage Law." She raised her eyes to Draco, who met her flushed face with a contemplative look. "If we were married, you wouldn't already be pressuring me into another baby, would you?"

He shook his head. "No. But whose to say you would have married me? You could have been paired up with Longbottom or Black or, most likely, Potter. After all, I can't imagine the Ministry not forcing the Chosen One to procreate. I think it's unlikely I would have been paired with anyone at all, if having babies had been tied to marriage. Scorpius wouldn't exist, Hermione." A look of horror crossed her face, and she glanced toward the basket as if to reassure herself that her tiny son was still there. Draco smiled at her concern.

She looked back and offered the blond a wan smile. She shuffled her papers together, obviously too preoccupied to continue her Mastery work. "You're right. It's just… well, I had brunch with Becca, Vicky, and Padma yesterday. Vicky's due any day, and Becca and Padma will both give birth by the end of the year. But none of them seem particularly happy."

"Well, no," Draco admitted. "As much as we both love Scorpius, and as fond as we are of each other, these are still coerced pregnancies. I'm sure there are a number of witches across Britain who regularly curse the Procreation Act."

Hermione's head dropped to her hands. "And it's all my fault."

Draco sighed, put down his own notes, and pulled Hermione over to the study's sofa. She had been overly emotional since Scorpius's birth which, in a moment of clarity, she explained was completely normal and even expected, given postpartum hormonal imbalances.

Normal and expected didn't make it any easier to deal with.

He rubbed her back, moving his broad hand in small circles, and he whispered calming words in her ear while her tears subsided. She wore black leggings and an oversized crimson tunic that buttoned down to her sternum, allowing for quick access when Scorpius was hungry. Her hair was thrown up in a messy bun, but, as always, her curls were attempting free themselves from their prison. She hadn't worn make-up since Scorpius's birth, but Draco had decided he liked her better without it anyway. She was more Hermione without it, and he liked being able to count the freckles on her nose while she nattered on about things like creature rights or a particularly archaic aspect of her Runes work.

He didn't really care about those things, but he'd learned not to tell her that.

Finally, she stopped crying and curled into Draco's shoulder.

"Hermione, as many problems as the Procreation Act has raised, this is the best choice for us all. Our generation is suffering the sins of our fathers—some of us more literally than others." He smiled down at her and she nudged him.

"Lucius loves you," she countered. She'd developed a friendly rapport with the older Malfoy, and she routinely ribbed him for the way he doted on his grandson.

Draco nodded. "He does. That doesn't mean he didn't contribute to our current situation, and he knows it. Perhaps the only person from that generation we could forgive is Arthur Weasley. Lord knows he did his part in furthering the wizarding world."

Another nudge, this one more forceful. "I like to think Molly had a hand in that as well."

Draco smiled at her and nodded in acquiescence. "Hermione, you know the obstacles if this doesn't work. Aside from the eventual collapse of our world, there would be in-fighting for women like you—perhaps worse. Daphne told me that because of the Procreation Act, there has only been one citation for a wizard baiting a Muggle woman, and even that was retracted when it was discovered that _she_ came on to the accused wizard!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "She didn't tell me that. I didn't see it in _The Prophet_ either."

Draco suppressed a laugh. "No, you wouldn't have. It's all quite hush-hush, considering who the wizard was."

Hermione raised her eyebrow in a move that reminded Draco too much of his father.

He smirked. "Severus."

Her eyes shot open. "No!"

He nodded gleefully. "He apparently forayed into the Muggle world for a gift for Becca's baby shower and ended up being strong-armed by a saleswoman into buying fifty Galleons worth of baby stuff for his 'niece.' Then the woman made him buy her dinner as a thank you for her help. A former student saw him with a clearly-Muggle woman and reported him to the Ministry."

Hermione's mind was going a mile a minute. "But… but… how did it keep from leaking to the papers? And what kind of woman forces Severus Snape to do _anything_?"

Draco laughed. "Luckily, the case fell to Potter and Proudfoot, and Potter insisted on taking it directly to Shacklebolt before his partner could act on it. The whole thing was cleared up before Proudfoot could even breathe scandal."

"And the woman?"

"She is, and I'm loosely quoting here, 'a overbearing know-it-all whose bumbling clumsiness rivals that of Longbottom in a potions lab.' But he's taken her to dinner three more times since."

Draco pulled back from Hermione and pushed an errant curl from her eyes. "The point is, Hermione, for the most part the Act is working. Yes, there are unhappy groups, and I know Daphne is having to deal with a lot of infighting in some of them—it'll be a miracle if Flint and McLaggen are both alive at the end of this—but there would have been many more issues if forced pregnancies with multiple wizards—which is the only way our world survives—had they been coupled with forced bondings. Besides Severus's little scandal, there have been very few cases requiring Auror-level involvement, and Daphne said the counselors are generally holding steady in their work for the moment, given that most every fertile witch is nearing the end of a pregnancy."

"Just because partners aren't hospitalizing each other doesn't mean anyone is happy, though. Vicky likes Francis, but Grant and Niall are both trying to woo her in the pure-blood style and its caused quite a bit of tension in their group, especially because they're both a decade older than her and she feels no real connection with either of them. Padma is suffering the opposite—almost all of her Procreation Group are actively dating _other_ women, and she feels a bit like a broodmare."

Draco frowned. "None of them are pursuing her?"

Hermione shook her head. "Surrogacy isn't uncommon in the Muggle world, but polyamory is. It's not non-existent, but it is rare. Since her partners are Muggle-born they've come to this with a different mindset. They'll likely want fidelity in a relationship, and obviously Padma can't offer that." She sighed. "Before I spoke with Padma, I didn't realize just how lucky I am that you, Neville, and Sirius are willing to see if we can work."

Hermione saw the falter in Draco's face and knew instantly who he was thinking about. "I know you miss him as much as I do."

He offered her a half-hearted smile. "I imagine I do, though you and Scorpius keep me quite busy."

"Things will be better at the new year," she said, hoping her voice sounded supportive.

Draco had agreed to return to Hogwarts in January, for the spring term, while Hermione was still struggling with her situation. She desperately wanted to continue her Mastery, but Master Blishen had been anything but supportive over her familial obligations and she'd somehow been roped into assisting with his classes—which had not been part of their initial agreement.

If she did return, she wondered how the friendly dynamic the three had fallen into the spring before would change. Not returning would mean more time with Sirius, as well her friends and family not at Hogwarts, but less time without Draco and Neville.

It felt as though there was no 'right' decision, and that didn't sit well with her—mostly because she was sure the was a 'wrong' decision, and that she would make it.

She shook her head and glanced at her son, still sleeping peacefully. He was swaddled in one of Molly's gifts from the baby-shower, and Hermione thought back to the older witch's advice. Sturdy, oversized swaddles really had been a lifesaver.

"I don't think I understood before—how you could want Neville _and_ want me. I felt like I was intruding on the two of you, and that you were both humoring me. And I felt more than a little betrayed. But after this time with all three of you, I'm starting to understand. You each bring something to me that is special, and I can't imagine who I could give up." She frowned. "Is it selfish of me, to keep all of you?"

"Yes," said Draco imperiously. "But as we've already discussed, I'm just as greedy as you are, witch."

She smiled at him, and then sighed again. "I've invited everyone here Sunday to discuss the next pregnancy. It'll be Neville or Sirius."

Draco forced his stomach out of his throat as he contemplated her pregnant with someone else's child. He thought back to the cabin, all those months ago, and thought of her coming undone beneath someone else—someone else making her gasp and moan and come the way he had. He fought the urge to visibly frown, and instead drew her close to him again.

"Can I kiss you?"

Her eyes shot up. "Of course. Why would you think you couldn't?"

He shrugged and then pressed his lips to hers, and took her waist in his hand. During the last stage of her pregnancy, like the first stages of their romance almost a year ago, all their kisses had been soft and gentle. He hadn't wanted to move too fast, both due the precarious nature of their relationship and her wacky hormones. He'd been subject to her erratic moods too many times in those final months, and he was unwilling to push in the slightest, lest his actions drive her to anger or tears.

And he knew she was still hormonal now, but with another pregnancy looming, he felt the pressure of asserting his claim on her, his interest in her. So he kissed her with all the passion he'd had when they'd been together at Yule, all the love and emotion he'd felt for her during her pregnancy and watching her give birth to Scorpius, all the longing he'd felt for her even as he'd slowly fallen for another Gryffindor.

XXXX

 _September 24th, 1999_

 _FROBISHER SISTERS GIVE BIRTH SAME DAY! FIRST DAUGHTERS BORN POST-PLAGUE!_

 _by Andy Smudgley_

 _Sisters Natalie and Victoria Frobisher both started yesterday at their shared flat in Hogsmeade, and they both ended the day in St. Mungo's. Natalie gave birth to Eugenie Amelia, daughter of the former Minister for Magic and current Head of the DMLE, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Victoria's daughter, Yvette Victoria, is the daughter of Francis Burke, heir to the House of Burke._

 _"I was shocked when I arrived at the hospital and Vicky was here too," said Kingsley, when asked about the two women delivering on the same day. "The girls have been through every step of their pregnancies together, so it makes sense that they'd do this together too."_

 _When asked about his relationship with Natalie, Kingsley demurred. "Natalie is an exceptional witch and Auror, and I know she will bring her litany of skills to motherhood as well. Our entire group is navigating the Procreation Act as best we can."_

 _Francis was more forthcoming on his relationship with Victoria as he cuddled his new daughter. "Oh, Vicky is fabulous but not the witch for me. She makes a very pretty baby thought!"_

 _The doting father was telling the truth: both Eugenie and Yvette are beautiful babies._

 _"We're thrilled to announce both girls are healthy and plague-inoculated," said Healer Franklin Burke. "Though we've monitored all post-plague pregnancies closely, and these two little girls have been particularly special. I feel honored to have been the Healer to bring them into the world."_

 _For more on developments in the Procreation Act, see page 7_

 _For more on how Ministry departments are handling maternity leaves, including an interview with Head of the DMLE, Kingsley Shacklebolt, see page 12_

XXXX

 _September 26th, 1999  
_ _Malfoy Townhouse_

Lucius sat as regally as one could when holding a sleeping newborn. The wizard's classic day robes were at odds with the dragon-decorated swaddle that had the remnants of spit up on it.

Try as the house elves may, babies were simply a constant source of fluids and even the gentlest of magics couldn't keep them clean.

Draco was welcoming Harry, Neville, and Sirius to the townhouse while Hermione did her best to rein in her nerves. It was nothing like the year before, when she felt she was forcing this situation on the men of her group—the best of men, she had quickly discovered. No, it was an anxiety wrought of complacency. The group had fallen into a dynamic that, if imperfect, was good enough. Lucius, the doting grandfather; Harry, the best friend bumbling his way around a new witch while still mourning the one he'd loved before; Sirius, the prankster who brought her joy that she hadn't known was missing in her life and who had become a new man these past few months; Draco, who could still make her wet between the thighs with a look and who had turned out to be a fantastic father; and Neville-sweet, gentle, Neville-who had quietly slipped into her and Draco's lives and filled a Neville-shaped hole neither knew they had.

And now things would change again. What happened if both Sirius and Neville were ready for a child? Would _she_ have to choose? And how could she—how could she make that decision, when the relationships she'd built with the three wizards in her life were so fragile, so new, so tenuous?

Sirius dropped a kiss on her forehead before he took a seat near Harry. Neville did the same and then made a beeline for Lucius.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to exercise godfather's rights and demand my godson," said Neville, smiling at the older Malfoy good-naturedly.

Lucius glared up at the tall wizard. "Gryffindors. No subtlety at all." He glanced back down at the wide-eyed babe in his arms. "Don't be fooled, child. Gryffindors are a fool-hearty bunch with no sense of self-preservation. You'd do well to follow tradition and be a Slytherin."

"Or he could take after his mum," smiled Hermione as Lucius handed Scorpius off to Neville, "along with his godfather."

"We do have you all outnumbered," said Harry, grinning. "Be careful, or we'll have him decked out in scarlet and gold before you can say Godric."

Lucius and Draco both glared at the messy-haired wizard.

Neville sat, ignoring the rest and babbling to his tiny godson.

"So…" started Hermione.

"Kitten, we all know why we're here," said Sirius. "And we've got it all worked out already."

A weight lifted off Hermione's shoulders, but at the same time her hackles went up. "Without discussing it with me?"

Sirius shrugged and grinned. "We knew you'd probably over-think it. But we've made a decision."

She had been overthinking it. She knew she had. But she certainly didn't like this decision being made for her.

"And if I disagree with your choice?"

Though he didn't stop smiling, the light in Sirius's eyes flickered ever-so-slightly.

"I'm still not ready, Hermione," said Harry, drawing the witch's attention. "It's… it was supposed to be me and… and this thing with Daphne is so new and… I can't yet. I just can't."

"And I'm still getting settled with things at Hogwarts," said Neville. "The school is reeling from the staffing changes, and continuity would be good for the students, at least in the short term. I don't know if I could bring a baby to live with me at the school or if I'd have to leave teaching."

Hermione didn't miss the quick glance between Neville and Draco, and the soft smile Neville gave his godson after.

Hermione turned to Lucius, who just barely shook his head.

Her heart clenched, and she slowly turned to look back at Sirius. His smile had softened, and she was worried that he'd taken her defensiveness personally. His doggish grin was just a bit too much, and there was fear and worry and…

"If you agree, of course," said Sirius gently.

Oh yes, she thought. Oh hell yes _._ A smile slowly formed on her face.


	31. Chapter 31

_A/N: Y'all. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa. I'm still here, and I haven't given up on this story (or_ Future Imperfect _). Life hit me like a brick wall and writing took a big back seat. In apologies, I do already have the next chapter written and it's basically 100% smutty-smut. I'll post it this weekend, but given the way life has been going I have no other specific posting schedule on the calendar._

 _I've had a number of people review and message me to encourage the completion of_ Pax Matrum _. I appreciate that more than I can say. So if you're still here, thanks for sticking around. xx_

* * *

 _September 30th, 1999  
_ _The Daily Prophet: Special Issue_

 _PROCREATION DEPARTMENT SCANDAL!  
_ _Marcus Flint assaults fellow Procreation Group member in Leaky Cauldron!  
_ _McLaggen family taken in for questioning following Flint's accusations!  
_ _Ministry counselor implicated in kidnapping charges!  
_ _Who is watching over the safety of our witches and our future?_

 _On Tuesday night, Marcus Flint, Chaser for the Falmouth Falcons, assaulted Killian McLaggen, assistant in the Department of Games and Magical Sports, in the Leaky Cauldron. McLaggen was taken to St. Mungo's and treated for broken bones and a shrinking charm to his groin area._

 _However, the violent altercation has revealed something rotten in the Ministry's controversial Procreation Act: the story contained in these pages of this Special Issue of The Daily Prophet reveals corruption in the Procreation Department, the illegal manipulation of a fertile witch through use of potions, and the villainous acts of some of our society's most venerated wizards._

 _According to sources within the DMLE, who requested anonymity given the ongoing nature of the investigation, Beatrix Martin, the witch assigned to Marcus Flint and Killian McLaggen's Procreation Group, has been held against her will at McLaggen Court since falling pregnant with Killian's child, who will be the McLaggen heir._

" _They've kept her secluded and dosed in low-grade calming draughts and inhibiting potions," revealed our source. "It wasn't enough to harm the baby, but it was enough to make her complacent to their manipulations and keep her from seeking out help."_

 _Four of the Procreation Group members-Callum, Cormac, Killian, and Tiberius McLaggen-have been taken into Ministry custody for investigation. So far, charges have only been brought against Killian and Tiberius._

Mr. Flint remains in holding pending the assault charges from his interaction with Killian McLaggen on Tuesday.

 _We were unable to obtain a comment from the final Procreation Group member, Gregory Goyle, who has been reported to be staying close to Ms. Martin while her health and the health of her baby is assessed at St. Mungo's._

 _Also currently in Ministry custody is Juniper Brown, the Ministry-appointed counselor to the Flint/Goyle/McLaggen Procreation Group._

" _These counselors are specifically trained to look for this kind of manipulation," said Department Head Angus Smithwyck. "We can only assume from the extended length of Ms. Martin's disappearance that Ms. Brown was involved somehow."_

" _Avoiding a situation like this was our main concern while creating the Procreation Department," said Minister Weasley. "It hurts my heart that Ms. Martin has been taken advantage of in this way, and I vow that we will do everything we can to bring her some justice and prevent something like this from happening to anyone else."_

 _The DMLE has named Auror Gawain Robards and Auror Trainee Harry Potter as co-leads on the investigation. Despite Auror Potter's youth and inexperience, many have cited his unfailing commitment to denizens of Wizarding Britain and his close connection with Procreation Act mastermind Hermione Granger as justification for his appointment._

" _Auror Potter is an exceptional officer, and his appointment to this investigation a result of his commitment to truth and justice, not due to his wartime fame," said Auror Robards._

 _See the inside of this special issue for more details on all aspects of this developing case..._

* * *

 _October 30th, 1999  
_ _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

Sirius grimaced as his godson dropped into the seat across from him. His body hit the chair with a _thud_ and the young wizard's shoulders sloped. He closed his green eyes and breathed heavily.

"That's the last of it."

Sirius _Accioed_ a tumbler and fifth of firewhisky and poured the younger wizard a glass.

"Interviews? Evidence? All of it?"

Harry nodded and, opening his eyes, grabbed the drink in front of him. He shot it back quickly and then poured himself another glass.

"At least with the McLaggen case. The Procreation Department hasn't referred anything else to us yet, and if they do I'm shoving that shit onto someone else. Kingsley can go fuck himself."

Sirius chuckled. "You're the dumb sod that volunteered. Hell, you even agreed with Kingsley's reasoning."

Harry took a sip of firewhisky and nodded. "That was almost five weeks ago. It's one thing to be trotted out as the Golden Boy so the department can do its job, but to be trotted out as the Golden Boy and to have to serve as co-lead the investigation? Sirius, I'm not even out of training yet!"

Sirius shrugged. "Could you imagine what would've happened if you hadn't been held up as a leader in the investigation? The public would have rioted. Hell, I thought Daphne was going to murder that woman in the counseling department when she found out what happened."

"It's been hard on her too," said Harry. "The internal investigations have been hell. Everyone's had to double-up on their home visits for transparency's sake, and they're all suspicious of each other." He slumped further down in his chair, eyeing his alcohol but not finishing it off. "Fucking McLaggens."

"Azkaban?"

Harry nodded. "It's what everyone is pushing for. Hell, it's what I'm pushing for, and I hate that bloody place on your behalf. But the way that poor woman talked… you know she can't even be in the same room with Cormac and Callum, and they were totally innocent? She's staying at Goyle's place, and he and Flint will barely let anyone from the Ministry over, much less be alone in a room with her. Once Flint was cleared of assault they whisked her away from everyone. Goyle's place is a damn fortress, and I mean that literally. Fucking moat and everything."

"Do you blame them?" asked Sirius.

Harry shook his head. "What Killian and Tiberius did was… I can't even imagine. You know Hermione met Beatrix once? She was at that first meeting of witches paired with pure-bloods. Said she was a spitfire, and she was glad someone with a backbone was placed in that grouping." Harry shook his head. "She's nothing like what Hermione described. Not anymore."

The Floo flared, and moments later Daphne appeared, Teddy wriggling in her arms.

"Harry!" the little boy cried, reaching for his godfather.

"Hey Teddy Bear," said Harry, scooping him up. "Did you have a good time with Daphne?"

Teddy nodded and looked serious. "Hippo book, Harry. Hippo book."

Daphne sat primly in a chair, though Sirius could tell she wanted to collapse as Harry had. He'd shirked off that pure-blood bullshit long ago, but once learned that training was hard to kick. She reached into her fashionable dragonhide bag and pulled out a large picture book.

Harry grabbed it and looked down. " _Harry and the Hippogriff_?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

She smiled primly. "The Quibbler press assures its readers that it's completely fictional and in no way based on a real-life person." Harry sighed and shook his head, and Daphne's smile became relaxed. "Teddy picked it out. He loves it."

"Hippo book, Harry."

"And then bed, Teddy Bear?"

Teddy shook his head, even as he yawned.

Harry laughed. "OK, let's get into our pajamas, read about Harry and the Hippogriff, and then we'll see how you feel." Pushing the remainder of his drink toward Sirius, he stood with the little boy-whose hair was slowly darkening from the Greengrass blonde to the familiar Potter black-and disappeared up the stairs.

Daphne sighed and looked at Sirius. "Are you going to drink that?" she asked neutrally.

He shook his head. "I'm leaving shortly. Big weekend, you know."

Daphne nodded. She took off her traveling cloak, letting it settle on the chair back, before taking Harry's drink and knocking it back, just as he had done with his first. "Circe, I needed that."

"Work? Teddy? Both?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Teddy is a darling and a joy, but he's also exhausting. And I had the joy of picking him up from Molly Weasley, who you know still thinks I'm a fame-seeking tramp. To top it all off, I was only _just_ cleared from our internal investigation this morning, and Megan fucking Jones made some comment about whoring for Harry and how it was unfair that the clear love story between Harry and Hermione was being ruined by a money-grubbing snake." Her neatly manicured nails dug into her palm. "If it wouldn't screw everyone else in the department over, I would've hexed her and told her good fucking luck trying to bag a wizard looking like a bald banshee."

Sirius smiled and poured another drink for the witch. "But it's done."

She nodded. "Internal investigations are done. The legwork we're doing to make sure shit like this never happens again? It's taking a whole reorganization of the department. Not that I mind. What happened to that woman is nothing short of psychological and emotional abuse. Marcus is livid, and poor Gregory is beside himself."

Sirius shook his head. "I wonder how they thought they could pull it off. The McLaggens were never the brightest _Lumos_ in the classroom."

"It wasn't a bad plan, for a group of non-Slytherins. Once the baby arrived, they could've started dosing her with all kinds of potions to make her averse to everyone else; the low-grade calming draughts were already keeping her subdued. And getting their ministry-appointed counselor onboard was the clincher. That crazy bitch has serious issues about Cormac, and they dangled him in front her like a ferret in front of starving hippogriff." She sipped her drink. "The poor sod had no idea he was going to be married off to that harpy, and given Tiberius's skill with potions I don't think they were planning on him going willingly.

"And the bullshit Tiberius had been feeding Marcus and Greg about her hating them and not wanting to see them? Those boys have enough internalized hatred to make that believable to them." Sirius shrugged and Daphne glared at him. "We all made bad choices during the war, Sirius."

"Not my witch," he smirked.

"Your witch is a paragon of poise and virtue who _Obliviated_ her parents to keep the safe from the Dark Lord, blackmailed a member of the press by keeping her in a jam jar, and served up Umbridge to a vindictive and _lecherous_ group of centaurs. I love Hermione, but she terrifies me sometimes." Daphne sipped her drink. "Although I will say she was much less scary in the negligee she picked out for this weekend."

The Animagus's eyes darkened as his mind raced through visions of Hermione in negligee: laid out in a white silk chemise, her curly hair falling to her shoulders; looking up from his knees to his witch in a leather bustier and garter belt with her hair pulled back; in a snug black lace teddy that separated at her hips to show off her lack of…

Daphne snapped her fingers, jolting him out of his litany of images. "Circe save me from sex-starved men. You're meeting her in, what, an hour? Keep it in your pants until then."

"You brought it up, you evil witch. I had high hopes of wooing her with a night out on the town, and now it's going to take everything I have to keep from shagging her in the restaurant toilet."

Daphne wrinkled her nose in disgust. "You better not, Sirius Black. Hermione deserves better than that."

He smiled, thinking of the little witch who would be in his arms later that night. "I know." He paused and then smirked. "Did _you_ happen to make any purchases while you were assisting my witch?"

Daphne's face remained neutral, but Sirius caught a hint of red up her neck. "That, you dog, is none of your business."

"Although I'm hoping it might be mine," said Harry, who rejoined them at the table. "Care to tell me more about your shopping trip while I block out what you just said about the witch I think of like a sister?"

Daphne's eyes flitted to Harry before she returned to her drink and set her mouth in a prim, neutral line. "They say the best storytelling is when you show, not tell." She looked up, and her eyes twinkled brightly at him.

Sirius barked out a laugh. "Close down the Floo while I'm gone. If anyone deserves a weekend off, it's you two."

"Says the guy whose been watching a toddler full-time while I get some abusive morons locked up for life. How do you manage it, Sirius? I barely made it through _Harry and the Hippogriff_ , which is _totally_ based on Buckbeak, by the way."

He shrugged. "I don't always. But Padfoot has a lot more energy than me, and kids love running around with dogs."

Harry's eyes went wide. "You watch him in your Animagus form? Sirius!"

The older wizard shrugged. "It's not like I can't shift back in a moment. Plus, you've been working eighty hours a week. I'm pretty sure you slept in your office some nights. I had to make do."

Harry grinned and put his arm around Daphne's chair. "Well, I'm not sleeping there tonight. So get out of here, you old dog, and take care of your witch while I take care of mine."

Red flared on Daphne's cheeks as she smacked Harry's arm.

Sirius stood, chuckling, and grabbed his cloak from the back of his chair. "You kids have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

He made for the Floo, his Animagus hearing picking up Harry's whispered words in his blonde witch's ear. Well, if Daphne hadn't been blushing before she'd _definitely_ be blushing now.

* * *

Hermione smoothed out her dress and tried to calm her nerves. There was no reason to be nervous, after all. This was Sirius. Just Sirius.

But as she looked in the mirror, her relative innocence came crashing back to her. She'd had sex… well, a number of times, but over a few day period and not since. Cognitively, she knew Sirius wanted to sleep with her, but her heart was aflutter with nerves. What if he didn't like sex with her? What if she was _bad_ at it?

Things had been going so well since they'd started dating. Hermione had known Sirius to be intelligent and charming-his reputation as a chronic flirt was well-deserved-but there was something different about being the singular focus of that charm. Their kisses had been electric and the few times they'd progressed beyond kisses had been glorious.

But they'd not yet had sex. Which seemed stupid, Hermione admitted, since the whole wizarding world wanted her and witches like her knocked up as soon and as often as possible. But despite the utilitarian nature of sex-at least as it pertained to adhering to the Ministry's mandates-she was still bound up in its emotional importance. Moreso, perhaps, given the fragile nature of her relationships with Sirius, Draco, and Neville. Sex still meant something to her, even if, at the heart of things, she was simply knocking boots for the greater good.

She sighed and grabbed her mauve pashmina, wrapping it around her shoulders. It popped against her charcoal wrap dress and black heels, warm and welcoming and girly without being too much. Sirius had wanted to take her on the town before they holed up in an exclusive wizarding hotel for the weekend, and she had gladly agreed. After so many days and nights caring for a sick infant-with too few showers and too little sleep-she was ready to feel like a real person again.

Hermione gave herself a once over and smiled bittersweetly. It was a date outfit Ginny probably wouldn't have approved of. She could almost hear her friend's voice bemoaning the knee-length skirts and sensible shoes that made up Hermione's wardrobe, complaining that just because Hermione acted like a librarian didn't mean she needed to dress like one.

Although Ginny would've certainly approved of what the curly-haired witch was wearing _under_ her outfit.

As she walked toward the Floo, Hermione peeked in the nursery on Scorpius. She was unsurprised to find Neville splayed out on the floor in casual robes, cooing at his godson.

"That's it, buddy," the tall Gryffindor quietly encouraged. "You can do it! Push up!"

Hermione giggled quietly, and Neville looked up, his eyes widening when he saw her. "Wow, Hermione."

She felt a faint blush creep up her neck. "Yeah?"

Neville glanced back at Scorpius, still on his tummy on the floor, as he pulled himself off the floor. "Yeah. You look beautiful." He walked closer to her, until he was looking down at the petite witch. "Think Sirius will mind if I get a quick snog in?"

She rolled her eyes and pushed up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. "Probably. With his sense of smell, he's bound to complain about your stench all night."

Neville took her waist in his hands, thumbs gliding gently along her ribcage. "That's true. But then he'll work extra hard to get rid of that smell, won't he?" He leaned down and kissed her gently, moving from her mouth to the top of her neck. "Really, I'm doing you both a favor."

"Mmm," Hermione hummed. "Totally selfless."

Neville worked back up to her mouth. His kisses had always made Hermione feel safe: she didn't know if it was his smell-of loam and grass and a hint of cedar-or the way he always tasted like strong tea when he kissed her. At that moment, she didn't much care.

Just as she moved to slip a hand around his neck, Scorpius cried out.

Neville pulled away, not letting go of her waist. "Looks like someone is done with tummy time."

Hermione slipped out of his grasp and went to pick up her son. She held him close, kissing the top of his head as his eyes darted around. "Hi sweetheart. Are you going to be a good little wizard for your godfather?" She glanced up. "Where is Draco?"

Neville ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. "His lab. He's finishing another trial this weekend, and the last bit requires exact timing." He knew Draco would be mad he missed Hermione leaving; the blond had been grumbling about Hermione's weekend with Sirius since he'd arrived earlier that day.

Neville had not been anxious about Hermione's next pregnancy, and he was somewhat bothered by the fact that he _wasn't_ bothered. Perhaps it was that he'd never been with Hermione in any monogamous fashion; his relationship with her had always been colored by her relationships with the other members of their Procreation group. Perhaps it was because he thought Sirius to be a good bloke and saw how good he was to Hermione-that he helped the witch let go and relax in a way the younger Gryffindor could not.

Perhaps it was because he had a sexy, if grumpy, Slytherin that he'd be pounding into the mattress later that night.

Hermione frowned. "I'm sorry I'll miss him." She snuggled Scorpius close, kissed him on the forehead, and handed him back to Neville. "You'll owl me if he gets sick again?"

Neville nodded dutifully.

"Or if anything else happens?"

"Hermione…"

"It's just…" Her eyes welled up with unshed tears and she stepped close to hold Scorpius's tiny hand. "He's just so small. What if something happens and I'm not here?"

"I'm oath-bound to protect this little guy, remember?" Neville smiled softly. "We'll be fine. Draco and I will teach him to gamble and drink firewhisky and pick up pretty witches."

She glared at Neville. "You'll walk him around in the garden and make googly eyes at him."

Neville shrugged. "Same difference." He kissed her on the cheek. "Now go. Sirius is waiting."

Hermione's heart simultaneously fluttered at the thought of the waiting wizard and clenched as she pulled away from her son. She offered Neville a quick, half-hearted smile and disappeared.

Neville jostled the infant. "Your mummy loves you very much. And so do I." He sat down in the rocking chair and hummed his godson to sleep.

* * *

When Hermione walked into the drawing room, Sirius was already waiting for her, sharing a glass of wine with Lucius. He was dressed in elegant black slacks and a fitted black suit coat, and she could make out a deep maroon shirt under his collar. Even from behind he was glorious to behold.

"Hello, Sirius," she said softly.

He turned, and she watched his eyes widen and drink her in.

"Kitten," he drawled. He opened his arm to her and she gladly placed herself in his hold. He dropped a kiss to her forehead. "You look ravishing."

"You do look lovely, Hermione," said Lucius sweetly. "Sirius was just telling me about your plans for the evening."

"But I haven't even told her, so we'll have to find other small talk," interrupted Sirius. "It's a surprise."

Lucius offered them both a wry grin. "Well, perhaps it's best if I send you on your way then." He took Sirius's near-empty glass and set it down and then focused on Hermione. "Enjoy your weekend. I'll make sure the boys don't get into too much trouble." Then the older wizard was gone.

Sirius led Hermione toward the Floo, his hand sliding down from Hermione's waist to her hip. He lightly traced the fabric of her dress, gently probing for the promised underthings. He desperately hoped his gasp wasn't audible when he felt the distinct pattern of lace. Gathering himself, he leaned down.

"I make no such promises, Kitten. I'll treat you like a princess this evening, but the minute we're alone you're going to show me all the trouble a bad girl like you can get into." He sucked on her neck and she gasped, but before she could respond he called out " _Di Bella Magia Trattoria_."


	32. Chapter 32

_A/N: As promised, a short but smutty chapter. But now I'm all caught up with my writing, and have no clue when the next instantiation of this story will come. I'm ruminating on lots of things: the emotional progression of the characters, the real-life implications of the Procreation Act on Hermione et al. as well as the other groups, and the continuing fallout of the plague. I can tell you that we'll likely see a bit more smut in the next few chapters (it's not gonna take another 10 months, narratively-speaking), we'll catch up with poor Beatrix, and we'll see some familiar-but-tangential-to-this-story faces soon._

 _Also, can I have a moment when I go 'holy crap, 1,300+ readers are getting notifications on this story!' It's awing to have so many people following along; thanks for reading my silly little story and your continually warm words. Y'all bring a little light to my day, so thanks!_

* * *

 _September 30th, 1999  
Di Bella Magia Trattoria_

 _Di Bella Magia Trattoria_ was everything Hermione thought a ridiculously expensive Italian restaurant should be: minimalist yet homey, simple and refined. The menu was small, lacked prices, and written completely in Italian. Sirius was wining and dining her in a way that no one ever had and, while she knew enough to know that menus without prices meant the restaurant was too damn expensive, Hermione couldn't help but be please that she was being romanced in such a way.

When Sirius escorted her to their table, his hand ghosted at the small of her back, just above the swell of her rear and sending shivers straight up her spine. When they talked lightly over wine and appetizers, Sirius would casually touch her arm, always lightly caressing her before pulling away, giving her gooseflesh. Over dinner, when conversation turned to more earnest issues like the McLaggen case heading to the Wizengamot and Sirius's trials and tribulations as he began the arduous task of taking up his House seat, Hermione would lean toward the older wizard so their conversation wouldn't be overheard; Sirius would rest his hand on her knee as he mirrored her movements, and her heart would flutter in her chest.

But it was over dessert, when Sirius's hand slowly moved from her knee to her thigh, inching up toward her core at a snail's pace, that the anticipation of the evening's activities starting soaking her knickers.

"Did you have a nice time with Daphne today?" asked Sirius, his index finger drawing small circles in a tender spot on the inside of Hermione's knee.

"Mm," she murmured, savoring the bite of tiramisu she'd stolen from his plate. "I did."

"And were you as successful as she was on your shopping trip?" His finger circled slowly up her leg.

Hermione flushed and focused on the panna cotta in front of her. "She and I have very different tastes."

Sirius leaned in to swipe a bite of her dessert, but did not lean away after eating it. "Mm. Sweet. A little tart. Hints of vanilla." He finished and leaned in, his lips ghosting her ear. "It sneaks up on you, how much you like it. But then it hits you like a ton of bricks: how satisfying it is, how much you crave it, and how much you cannot wait"-his tongue darted out to the sensitive spot where her ear met her neck-"to taste it again…"

"Sirius." His name came out unbidden, half whisper, half moan.

And then he was gone, back in his seat, looking every inch a distinguished man of breeding as he waived down their waiter.

"The check, please."

* * *

She was uncharacteristically silent as Sirius spoke with the concierge at the small, posh Muggle resort in Cornwall that he'd booked for their trip. Within minutes of paying the bill for dinner, Sirius had apparated them to a secluded spot in the gardens of the resort. His frenzied hands personally confirmed no inch of her had been splinched, but when she pressed against him, feeling his desire for her pushed up against her lower abdomen, he pulled back.

"Fuck, Hermione…" he whispered, clenching his eyes and hands shut. "Give me… let me get us checked in. A room, a bed… just…" He breathed heavily, forcing himself under control.

She smiled. The Sirius she knew, she remembered, would've take her up against a park bench. This Sirius-the man he was becoming, was trying to be-wanted something different. She didn't know if he thought it was irresponsible of him to shag her outside, or if he wanted something different for their first time together. Perhaps he didn't want his heir to be conceived in such a way. His insistence on control was sweet…

...and a little disheartening. While she loved this new Sirius, she didn't want to lose her fun-loving Marauder.

She took his still-clenched hand and pulled up to kiss him on the cheek. "No shagging outside." She pulled him in the direction of the front of the hotel. "At least, not yet."

His head shot up. He caught her playful smile and his own face lit up. He snaked his arm around her waist and leaned into her ear. "Yet?" He kissed her behind the ear, lightly nipping at the crevice of her neck before he pulled away and led her toward the resort's entrance.

* * *

They didn't even bother with the key. A whispered, wandless _Alohomora_ had them in their room seconds, but Hermione's attempt at a _Divesto_ was cut short by Sirius's abrupt kiss.

"Don't," he whispered, pulling away from her. He toyed with the hem of her skirt, fingering the fabric where it grazed her thigh. "I've been looking forward to unwrapping you all evening."

Hermione flushed as he made space between them and fingered the tie at her waist. She watched his eyes as the fabric parted. Without pulling his gaze from her body, his hands slid up to her shoulders to peel the dress from her body.

She stood as bravely as she could, dressed up in the matching black satin that Daphne had talked her into earlier that day. The black lace bustier and matching thong had seemed quite daring to Hermione; even after her trip with Draco she had reverted back to her basic cotton separates. Lace seemed so impractical-so decadent.

But as she watched Sirius watch her, she had to admit there was something to be said for decadence.

"Fuck, kitten," he said, reaching out almost reverently. He closed the distance between them, but before she could kiss him he dropped to his knees. His hands clenched firm to either side of her hips as he nosed at her abdomen, his lips grazing the top of her lace knickers. "You"-he breathed in deeply-"smell so fucking good."

"Sirius," Hermione whispered.

"I want to taste you, Hermione." He pulled the thin strip of lace to the side with one finger, peppering kisses down her hip bone toward her center. "I want to see if you taste as good as you smell. If you taste as good as I remember."

And it was Teddy's birthday all over again, Sirius using his mouth and fingers to pleasure her as she came apart against a wall, doing her level best not to crumple into a boneless heap.

This time, however, she found herself coming down from her orgasm in Sirius's arms. Her face was against his chest as he carried her bridal-style to the giant bed in their room.

He laid her gently on the bed and stood up, working on divesting himself of his own clothing.

Realizing her missed opportunity, Hermione shot up and grabbed for his trousers. "Let me, please," she asked, her brown eyes drifting up to his grey ones.

He smirked at her, and she flushed as she undid his trousers and, in one fell swoop, pulled them down along with his pants. He breath caught as she took in his cock. He was longer than she remembered Draco being, and he curved slightly. Where Draco had fine, blond hair that was barely noticeable, Sirius's wiry black hair framed his manhood in a decidedly masculine way.

"Fuck," she whispered, and then blushed at her own vulgarity.

Sirius laughed. "That's mostly the idea." He shrugged off his shirt and pushed her back down, swinging her legs around to lay on the bed and crawling up, peppering her body with kisses. He peeled off her soaked thong and then moved up to work on the bustier. "After all, how else am I going to make this sweet body swell with my child?"

He freed her from the constraining top and took in her naked glory. She did the same to him, her fingers tracing outlines of tattoos and scars she'd never seen. He was, admittedly, no longer a young man. He was every bit of his 38 years and Hermione guess it would take no more than five-perhaps less, if their child was a hellion-for him to go full salt and pepper. His body was svelte but not rock solid. He had wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and mouth.

Laugh lines, thought Hermione. The wear and tear of a man who has laughed much and lost much. Lost too much.

"Let me give you a baby, Sirius," said Hermione, pulling up his chin to look into his eyes. "Let's make a baby."

He kissed her, lowering his body onto hers. "Your brains. Your resilience. Your big heart." He nestled his cock at her entrance. "You're perfect, Hermione." He slid into her slowly.

She groaned at his size. Wet from her earlier orgasm, his pelvis his her clit perfectly, sending jolts of electricity through her. "Oh gods!" she moaned.

"Fuck, you feel good," he whispered in her ear. "Better than I ever imagined. All those nights wanking off to thoughts of your tight cunt-I had no idea. No idea how fucking good you'd feel."

Still achingly slow, he thrust into her deep and she groaned again.

"Do you like that, Hermione? Do you like the way my cock fills you?"

"Yes," she hissed as he sped up ever-so-slightly.

"I can tell, kitten. I can feel you clenching around me. But Merlin, do you have the hottest cunt I've ever had."

Hermione didn't have the heart to chastise him for his filthy language.

She could barely admit it to herself, but she loved the dirty things he was whispering to her. It made her feel desired in a way she never had. She moved against him, letting his words wash over her and stimulate her until, once again, she was orgasming around him.

"Gods Hermione, I'm going to cum soon. I'm going to cum deep in you. I'm going to give you a baby Hermione. My baby." His thrusts sped up, and he sucked hard on her neck.

"Yes, Sirius. Please."

"You're so goddamn perfect, kitten. Gonna fill you up. Gonna make you mine."

He swallowed back " _forever_ " while he still had the rationality to do so.

Hermione leaned up and whispered, "Yours," in his ear, and he lost it, spilling himself deeply inside of her as he moaned her name one more time.

He pushed and pushed and pushed deep into her, willing her pregnant. He knew that with the fertility potions she was practically guaranteed to walk away from their time together with a bun in her oven.

But the canine in him wanted her marked not only with his offspring, but with his essence. He wanted her, body and soul, and if diving into her as deeply as he could kept out the real world-and the other four men in her bed-then he would bury himself in her as long as he could.

"Yours," she whispered again.

* * *

They made love twice more, until the wee hours of the morning, before succumbing to sleep. The next morning, he called down for room service. She woke up to a pot of tea and a full spread of breakfast foods.

"Morning love," he said when she walked in. He grabbed her hand and, turning it, kissed the inside of her wrist. "Sleep well?"

"Mmm," she hummed in assent, taking the proffered cup of tea and settling in the chair next to him. Like Sirius, she was wearing the resort's large bathrobe, having spent the night wrapped only in his arms. She pulled her feet underneath and grabbed for a piece of toast.

"I haven't slept that well in almost a year," she said. She didn't mention Draco or the cottage, which is where her mind immediately went. "I'm a bit shocked you're awake, actually."

He shrugged. "I've been making mornings a regular thing. Those sods at the Wizengamot start work at the bloody crack of dawn: meetings, committees… so much fucking paperwork. But I have to be up early if I'm going to play their game."

Hermione took a bite of toast and grinned. "Sirius Black, you sound like a contributing member of society!"

Sirius's eyes widened in mock shock and he put his hand on his chest. "Kitten, you wound me to the quick."

She leaned over and kissed him. "Responsibility looks good on you. But don't get too responsible."

"So says the beautiful swot. I thought my marauding ways drove you crazy?"

She nodded. "They do. But I've recently been informed that they have pleasurable aspects as well."

"Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Mm hm. For instance, I've recently become very intrigued by the idea of shagging outdoors. There's a pretty little garden here-nice and secluded. Think we might take a little walk later?"

"Leave this room?" asked Sirius, grabbing for Hermione and lifting her straight out of her chair.

"Sirius!" she cried when he pulled her onto his lap. "What are you doing?"

"Talking sense into you, kitten," he said, tugging on her robe tie and leaning down to take her nipple in his mouth.

"I don't think…"

 _Lick._

"...you should be in public..."

 _Nip._

"...today."

 _Suck._

"Why not?" she asked breathily and he continued to lathe attention on her chest.

"Because it would be indecent of you to leave this room in what you'll be wearing."

"And what, exactly, is that, Sirius Black?"

He pulled the robe from her body and, untying his own, lifted her onto his cock. She hissed as he entered her, still slightly swollen from the night before. He bit at her nipple and she laughed before she started to languidly ride him.

"Nothing. Even that robe you had on offends me, so you'll just have to go without all day long. Which means you can't leave this room. It's indecent."

"And tomorrow?" she moaned as he filled her.

His mouth left her chest, making its way up her neck toward her lips. "I'm willing to negotiate," he whispered before he kissed her, thrusting to meet her hips.

* * *

"Sirius?"

He groaned and stretched. After their morning romp, breakfast, and separate showers (at her insistence), they had in fact ventured outside for a long walk on the beach and a light lunch at the resort restaurant. It had made Hermione quite giddy, walking hand-in-hand with Sirius. Some of the younger Muggles at the resort were wide-eyed at the couple, given the age difference; older couples, to whom a decade meant significantly less, regarded them with affection, perhaps ruminating on their own young loves from bygone days.

After lunch, they had returned to the room and, after some light snogging, had fallen asleep. Hermione had woken an hour later, the older wizard spooned around her back with his arms wrapped tight around her waist.

"Sirius?" she whispered again.

"Yes, kitten?" He kissed the back of her head.

"Would you… would it… I'm worried about Scorpius."

Sirius chuckled. "I bet you are. That why I booked a room specifically with a fireplace and set up the Floo this morning while you were still sleeping. It's hooked up to Grimmauld and the Malfoys. I already called to check on Teddy, just to test it out. I only ask that you put on that Merlin-forsaken robe before calling that blond git."

She rolled over to face him and lifted her hand to his cheek. His face smiled, but there was a small glint of sadness in his eyes.

"I don't want to make you feel like I'm not here with you."

"Kitten, I can feel you here with me. But Scorpius is your son. I hope someday, when…" He swallowed the thought of her with anyone else like she was with him right now. "I hope you'll always want to check on our child." His hand moved to her stomach. "Our baby."

She stared into his eyes. They held a little sadness, but mostly brimmed with adoration.

He kissed her forehead. "Go. Check on your little Malfoy and then come back here so I can shag a little Black into you. Maybe our kid will keep it's half-brother from being a poncy prat like his dad and grandfather."


	33. Chapter 33

_A/N: A writing bug hit me over the last three days, so SURPRISE! :) As always, I am thankful for those of you who follow this little story and the kind words you have for it. xx_

 _Update: In a previous version of this chapter, Padma was pregnant with Dean Thomas's baby. However, as he and Seamus are a couple, the whole Megan Jones thing didn't make sense. I've updated this to reflect a Justin Finch-Fletchley/Megan Jones/Padma Patil situation. Thanks to Isis36 for pointing out the inconsistency. It's hard to keep all this straight in my brain, even with all the re-reading I do! Thanks for the keen eye! :)_

* * *

 _October 1st, 1999_  
 _Malfoy Townhouse_

"Scorpius!"

Hermione flew through the Floo, barely pausing to dust herself off, before scooping the tiny blond infant into her arms. Still mostly oblivious to the world around him, Scorpius cooed up at his mother.

"Welcome back," said Draco to the witch who had pulled his son from his arms. His gaze drifted over Hermione's shoulder, where a very smug looking Sirius Black had followed the witch through the Floo. "I trust you had a pleasant weekend?"

"Mmm," hummed Hermione absently as she checked that her son did, in fact, still have all ten fingers and toes. "Of course."

"Very pleasant," said Sirius, his tone dripping with satisfaction.

"Oh, you are hungry, aren't you," asked Hermione as Scorpius began to root against her chest. She looked up at the wizards. "I'm going to go feed him." She stepped forward to kiss Sirius deeply. "Thank you for this weekend."

"My pleasure, kitten," he mumbled in her ear, his hand dropping to ghost along her abdomen. "When will you…"

"We'll know for sure in a few weeks."

"And we're still on for dinner on Wednesday?"

She nodded. "Of course." She kissed him again, lightly, on the nose. "Get some rest Sirius." She turned to Draco, and kissed him on the cheek. "It's good to see you."

"You too, Hermione. Don't keep Scorpius waiting." He pat her bum as she strolled out the door, cooing at Scorpius the whole while.

Draco turned to regard Sirius, who's gaze was still focused on Hermione. "Black."

Sirius cleared his throat. "Malfoy. Draco. If she's… we're going to need to work on living the next living situation."

"Scorpius needs his mother," said Draco flatly.

"I understand that. I think, however, you can also identify with my desire to keep Hermione close."

Draco was fuming inside at the prospect of Hermione moving out of the townhouse, but he nodded once, tersely.

"We'll discuss it once her pregnancy is confirmed. Until then, I should make sure she's settling back in comfortably."

Sirius nodded. He glanced to the door Hermione had disappeared through, as though he might will her to return. When she did not appear, he turned and disappeared through the Floo.

* * *

 _October 9th, 1999_  
 _Becca and Katie's Flat_

"Well?"

Hermione sipped her cuppa as the women around her waited with bated breath. Becca was huge-only a short time away from giving birth to the Macmillan heir. Katie sat on the floor underneath the younger witch, watching as Artie and Scorpius lay next to each other on a blanket. Padma Patil had joined their band of the Perpetually Pregnant, as they had taken to calling their little get togethers, and was sitting next to Becca on the couch, rubbing her own round belly.

The curly-haired witch sighed and set down her teacup. "What do you mean well? It was incredible, and no, I'm not giving any more details."

The three witches gave her varying degrees of grins and wistful sighs.

"And it hasn't caused an issue with Draco and Neville?" asked Katie, grabbing a handful of crisps from a bowl on the coffee table in front of her.

Hermione shrugged. "Not really. I haven't slept with either of them recently, and I think it's understood that's off the table until we can confirm I'm pregnant." She flushed. "Draco did corner me when I came in late on Wednesday and… well, we had an intense snogging session."

"Just snogging?" asked Becca, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione's flush deepened. "I didn't think it'd go down well if he… well, if we went any further and he found what Sirius had left after dinner."

Becca howled in laughter, while Padma sighed longingly and Katie offered a half smile.

"No, I can't imagine Malfoy being pleased about that at all!" said Becca. She shifted and cringed. "Oi! This little bugger has his foot lodged right in my ribcage."

"Don't I know it," said Padma, rubbing her stomach. "This little one is definitely going to be a football player."

"Football?" Hermione asked, surprised.

Padma shrugged. "All six men in my group are Muggleborn, and they all support different clubs. This season has been a right pain in my ass."

"Are they taking care of you?" Becca and Padma had both had a hard time with some of the men in their group, and the two witches had found a camaraderie of experience that Hermione and Katie could not provide.

Padma shrugged. "As best they can. Justin is getting nervous about becoming a father, and I think the fact that we're not together is putting pressure on him to make things more serious with Megan or do this alone."

The other witches nodded sympathetically. Justin Finch-Fletchley's's on-again, off-again relationship with Megan Jones for the last few months had been no small concern for Padma, who was anxious over the environment her first child would be raised in. She didn't want a parade of witches in and out of the child's life, but she didn't think she could take full responsibility if Justin wasn't going to change his philandering ways. His wandering cock had been the impetus for most of his and Megan's off-again period.

It had been particularly tense when one of the witches Justin had wandered with had been Parvati-especially since it had happened only weeks after he'd been with Padma to get her pregnant.

"We're not the only ones being forced to grow up too soon," said Katie solemnly, looking out the window.

"Until Ernie gets ankles this swollen and heartburn this bad, I'm calling bullshit on that comparison," said Becca.

Padma continued to describe the complicated relationship with her current baby's father, with Becca providing supportive murmurs as the conversation allowed. Hermione watched Katie, who seemed distracted.

When Padma got quiet, Hermione point out asked the blonde witch what was going on.

She shrugged. "Things with George have been tough since Percy. He's… he's been sleeping on the couch."

Hermione winced. Percy and his fiancée, Audrey, had asked that Katie's next baby be theirs. Their wedding was quickly approaching-scheduled for the holidays-and, assuming things had gone according to plan the night Percy and Katie spent together, the baby would be born in the middle of summer.

"He does know you were both drunk on lust potions, right?" asked Padma.

Katie nodded. "I would've shagged Voldemort himself I was so out of it."

"Not according to Snape you wouldn't," said Hermione. "Apparently his dick was as non-existent as his nose."

"George knows there's nothing between me and Percy-hell, even with the potion Percy asked me to glamour myself to I'd look more like Audrey-but George… well, he's a bit insecure."

"Audrey?" asked Hermione.

"Lovely," sighed Katie. "She's been so wonderful. She's clearly excited, but also doesn't want to step on my toes. We've been having lunch once a week to work on what it will mean to for her to be mother to a baby I give birth to. She really wants this to work in a way that doesn't cause problems for the family."

"I don't think you can totally avoid that," said Padma. "But it's nice to have someone in your corner."

Katie nodded. "I'd feel better if George was in that corner too."

"You can't make him, Katie," said Becca. "He'll either work through it or he won't. You're doing what you can, and this is an issue that's not going to go away. What will happen with Fred? Or Bill? Or Ron? And then you're going to have to do it all over again." Becca leaned down to give Katie, who had started crying, a hug from behind. "You can do what you can do hun, and then you can do no more."

Hermione nodded. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

Katie shrugged. "I don't know if it will help, but it feels like nothing at this point would make it any worse."

* * *

 _October 10th, 1999_  
 _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes_

Hermione stormed into the brightly lit shop right at its opening and sent a Bat Bogey toward the first redhead she saw.

"Ow! Fuck! What the bloody hell?"

"Shit, wrong Weasley," muttered Hermione, waving a Finite Incatatem at him. "Sorry Ron. Where's George?"

"Why should I tell you, crazy witch?" asked Ron, wiping the residual snot from his nose.

She pointed her wand at him. "I can do a lot worse than a Bat Bogey."

Eyes wide, Ron pointed to the stairs that led to flat above the shop. Before Hermione could get to the door, it opened to reveal almost-identical twins in maroon robes.

"Mione!" they cried in joy. Their tune changed, however, when both had bogeys start to fly out their nose.

"All right, which one of you only has one ear?"

George raised his hand, thinking he'd be freed; his eyes went wide when, instead, his brother was saved from the hex.

"George Fabian Weasley, you are an unmitigated ass!" Hermione cried. "Are you trying to ruin Katie's life?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" asked George between bogeys. He looked at Fred for help, but his twin only shrugged.

"I tried to talk sense into you the other night, mate. You're my twin, and I love you, but the crazy witch is right."

Hermione, not looking away from George, sent a silent stinging hex to Fred, who jumped. "Oi!"

"She loves you George, and your inability to get the fuck over this situation is destroying her. She's crying herself to sleep, not that you would know since you're sleeping on the Merlin-forsaken couch!"

Ron's eyes went wide. George just glared at his younger brother.

"This isn't your business, Hermione, so butt the fuck out, please."

"If you're not careful, George, you're going to lose her. And that will be incredibly hard for her because she loves you so very much. But I get the feeling there would be another Weasley willing to pick up the pieces, if you catch my drift." Hermione looked at Ron and then quickly glanced at Fred.

"It's not like she won't get to them eventually…" muttered George.

"You're a right fucking twat, you know that? Do you really think she wants this? Any of this? She doesn't. None. Of. Us. Do. So get over your pity party and apologize to your girlfriend before you lose her for good. And if we have to have this conversation again, I'll transfigure you to a pigmy puff and give you to Scorpius as a pet, do you understand me?"

George glared at her. She threw up her hands and walked out the door.

"Bitch," he muttered.

"Sure, but she's not wrong," said Ron. George turned his glare on his young brother. "What? You are so bloody lucky I can't even put it into words, and you're getting in a snit about something Katie can't help. If you fuck it up… well, you're my brother but she's going to be the mother of my children. I'm telling you now, I'll be there for her if you aren't."

"Fuck you, Ron."

The youngest Weasley shrugged. "Be pissed at me, then. But not at Katie, mate. If you know what's good for you, you'll take Mione's advice and apologize."

* * *

 _October 23rd, 1999_  
 _The Daily Prophet_

 _TROUBLE IN PARADISE?_  
 _MINISTER'S ALMOST-DAUGHTER-IN-LAW WITHDRAWS FROM PUBLIC EYE_

 _By Nina Bagshot_

 _In the weeks that have followed the devastating drama of Beatrix Martin and her fate as a result of the Procreation Group, it seems not all is well amongst those who would have you think Ms. Martin's experience was an anomaly._

 _Katie Bell, recent Hogwarts graduate and the witch placed with Minister Weasley's family as part of the Procreation Act, has moved out of her flat with longtime boyfriend George, and his brother Fred._

 _The Weasley family recently announced Ms. Bell was pregnant by Ministry Undersecretary Percy Weasley._

 _Mr. Percy Weasley and his fiancee, Audrey Fawcett, have gone on record as very excited about the pregnancy._

 _"Katie and I are very close," Ms. Fawcett told The Daily Prophet in a previous interview. "We're working on what our family will look like going forward, but I'm so grateful for the gift she is giving us."_

 _However, it seems not all is well within the Weasley family. A source close to the couple, who has requested to remain anonymous, revealed trouble to be brewing between Ms. Bell and Mr. George Weasley as a result of her most recent pregnancy._

 _"I'm not sure why this is coming as a shock," the source said. "These witches sleeping with multiple men, having babies by multiple men. I'm surprised they didn't split earlier. I couldn't imagine having a share my partner-poor George."_

 _When contacted for comment, Fred Weasley, who co-owns Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes with George, told this reporter to get lost-in less than polite terms._

 _Owls to Ms. Bell for comment have gone unanswered. Previous to her most recent birth, Arthur Frederick Weasley, son of George Weasley, Ms. Bell had worked at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes; she has since taken a position at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions._

 _Will Ms. Bell reconcile with Mr. Weasley? Or will we have another victim of the Procreation Law?_

* * *

 _October 24th, 1999_  
 _Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

"Fuck!" cried Bill, pulling out of Sirius and stroking himself to completion.

Sirius, who had spent himself earlier while Bill had been inside him, collapsed on the bed.

It was an unspoken between the men that, since they had started this arrangement, that neither ever came inside the other. For Sirius, their relationship didn't warrant such an intimate action; for Bill, the small bit of wolf he had within him wouldn't allow himself to claim Sirius in such a way.

Silently, the two men Scourgified themselves and pulled on their trousers-Bill, a pair of grey slacks, and Sirius some dark but faded denims.

"You still seem antsy," said Sirius. He had reached for his shirt but kept from putting it on, his eyebrow raised toward Bill in the silent suggestion that he might need another round.

The redhead shook his head and re-wrapped his long hair with a black leather thong. "It's not that." He paused and shrugged. "My pack is off."

"Hermione may have mentioned something along those lines," said Sirius, throwing on the black tee. He shook out his own dark hair but left them loose.

"Katie moved back to her apartment with Becca, and it makes me anxious that she doesn't have someone from the pack with her now that she's pregnant again. Artie is at the Burrow pretty much all the time, now that she's working again, but it still feels… broken."

"George still has his head up his ass then?"

Bill nodded. "I don't know what to do. We've all talked to him-even Mom sat him down, which I don't envy in the least-but he's completely shut down. I know he still loves her, but I don't know… he feels broken."

Sirius nodded. "And Katie…?"

"Hurting. I want to be around her all the time." Bill blushed immediately at the implication. "Not because of that. She doesn't spark anything in me. It's just…"

"Hurting pack, unprotected cub. You'd be surprised at how much I understand that." Between how broken he and Remus had been for the seventeen years follow James and Lily's death, and then Teddy's orphaned status after the war, Sirius could understand Bill's more animalistic drives.

"We're all trying to check up on her without smothering, even Mum."

"Did you ever figure out who leaked to The Prophet?"

Bill shook his head. "It's all speculation. Apparently all the girls got together a few weeks ago and Katie confessed she and George were having problems, but I can't see any of them blabbing. There are a few witches who work with her at Madam Malkin's that might have blabbed, but most of it would have been speculation-she's been tight-lipped about the whole thing, even within the family."

Sirius stood and put his hand on Bill's shoulder. "I'm here if you need anything." He bowed his head in a slight move of submission, his voice deep and breathy. "Anything."

Bill pulled the man in tight for a hug. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Sirius." He pulled back. "Give Hermione my best and… tell her thank you. For this. For… for sharing you with me."

* * *

 _November 6th, 1999_  
 _Malfoy Townhouse_

Hermione slowly opened her eyes from the brief catnap she'd taken. Scorpius lay dozing next to her, still recovering from the tail end of croup that had plagued the whole house for the last two weeks. Everyone was frazzled beyond belief from lack of sleep, and Scorpius would only be soothed if he was falling asleep upright on someone's chest-preferably Draco's.

Draco, however, was in the bowels of his potions laboratory for the day, so Scorpius had made do with falling asleep on Hermione. Once the small, fair baby had started snoozing, Hermione had laid him on her large bed and snuggled down to get some rest of her own.

But her nap was cut short by a gut-wrenching nausea that had her scrambling for the bathroom. As she heaved her light breakfast into the toilet, she wrenched her body around so she could keep an eye on the slumbering infant on her bed.

After a few minutes of losing her stomach, she rose, sweaty and pale and frowning at the acidic taste in her mouth. After brushing her teeth she made her way back to the bed and lay back down. She recognized the symptoms: her breasts had been sore-more sore than usual even given Scorpius's feeding schedule-and she was sleepy during the day but restless at night.

Her familiar morning trip to the porcelain throne just confirmed what she already knew.

She did her best to sleep more, but the realization of how much things had changed again-though expected-kept her up. She stared at Scorpius, sleeping sweetly with his tiny bottom lip slightly open. Hermione rested her hand next to his, and his tiny hand gripped her finger in his sleep.

She still couldn't believe this little child was hers, and she joked with the other pregnant women in her life that she didn't know how anyone thought it was a good idea for her to have children. For all her book smarts, she was still only twenty and had no idea how to care for a baby.

But her she was, mother to this little bundle of spit up and croupy-cries and sweet smiles, and now she had another on the way. How would she keep up with two? Three, if she included Teddy, who was as good as family?

After a half an hour, Scorpius woke crying, and Hermione soothed him with a feed. Then she sent off a Patronus to Sirius to come by the Townhouse when he could. It was only a few minutes later that she heard a soft knocking on her door.

"Kitten?" he asked, coming through. "What do you need? Malfoy said you were up here sleeping."

She pat the bed next to her and shifted Scorpius in her arms. "We should perform the charm."

Sirius's eyes lit up. "Really?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Lots of sex plus a fertility potion, timed for my cycle? Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

He sat next to her and pulled out his wand. He glanced from her abdomen to her face and then back again. "What if… what if I do it wrong?"

Hermione kissed his cheek. "You'll be fine." He didn't move. "If you prefer, I can call Lucius in. He performed it when we found out about Scorpius."

Sirius frowned and waved his wand in a familiar way. It glowed bright white.

She smiled as his eyes went wide, staring at his wand hovering over her stomach. She hoisted Scorpius up onto her shoulder and leaned over to kiss Sirius on the cheek. "Congratulations, Daddy," she whispered.

"I'm going to be a dad," said Sirius.

"You're going to be a great dad," Hermione corrected. "Not a perfect one, but a great one."

Sirius rested his head on the shoulder unoccupied by Scorpius. "You'll help me?"

Hermione kissed his forehead. "Of course. You won't need it, though." She paused. "Wanna go tell everyone?"

He slid his arms around her waist, his fingers reverent on her midsection and his nose taking in the scent of rosemary, cinnamon, and new baby. He wanted to savor the moment. "Give us a minute, yeah?"


End file.
